


So Far From Crete

by stut_ter



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-11
Updated: 2014-01-03
Packaged: 2018-01-04 07:30:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,445
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1078245
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stut_ter/pseuds/stut_ter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>WingFic AU where Kurt is descended from a long line of Aligerians, a race of people who eventually grow wings.  They began as revered and now, in the 21st Century, are used for sexual pleasure and are considered an exotic thing to behold.  The winged must keep their wings covered, causing major issues for them, and it is expensive to cover them with synthetic skin.  Kurt's mother was a Winged and, as he begins to Become, he relocates to the Dalton Academie for Celestial Descendants (opened in 1800, thanks so much), where he meets Blaine Anderson, a potential Winged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I began this story in December of TWO THOUSAND ELEVEN. It is now two years later and every once in awhile people surface and ask me if I will ever complete it. Well...I am now.
> 
> There were 7 parts written, I will be completing the entire story by December 31, 2013, and then I will never need to worry about it again. 
> 
> This was my second long-ish fic. I was brand new to tenses, etc. I am not editing these back chapters until after I finish posting so...I'm sorry for any missing betaing because I DIDN'T BETA then. 
> 
> Er...I kind of still don't? 
> 
> Keep in mind, I began this RIGHT after the character of Blaine was introduced and Sebastian was still a threat...
> 
> ANYWAY. Here's the original note I put at the beginning of the story:
> 
> The beautiful and talented anxioussquirrel brought this prompt to my attention. From there I made an ACTUAL outline (shh...contain your shock, okay?) and a WHOLE LOT OF NOTES (good lord) about what I want to do with this story...I was going to try to be good. To pre-write and save a few chapters and then be able to unload every few days. But I have no patience. At least I edited a little bit before posting, no? If you want to check out the prompt it's here: [...it WILL spoil you for things to come. If you don't want to be spoiled know this: Crete is where Icarus lived. Icarus had wings of feathers and wax. Perhaps he was lucky...](http://kurt-blaine.livejournal.com/1044448.html?thread=108084704#t109973984)

_He knows he can reach it if he wants to.  Just stretch a little higher and his fingertips will trail through stardust and moonbeams just like in a movie.  If he could just pull himself a little further from the earth...pull his toes up and just.._  
  
 _And then he’s up.  Instead of holding him down the wind flows over him, around him, lifting and pulling him where he needs to go.  Faster and higher he climbs, aching to reach, touch, taste everything he can while he still has time here.  Home is miles, hours, days from here...and it’s so strange because this could_ be _home if he wanted it to be, he thinks; if he could let go of “home” and just kept flying-_  
  
Kurt wakes with a jolt, knocking his pillow off the bed and resisting the urge to reach around and feel his shoulder blades where they pinch and burn.  
  
He knows he needs to tell his father.  
  
He knew it yesterday.  And the day before.  And before that.  This is the fourth time in so many days that he has had  _this_  particular dream.  In another time or another place one would just think that Kurt Hummel is feeling freed from some burden or needs to let go of some kind of baggage and move on and his unconscious mind has been not-so-subtly berating him.  
  
But this is now and here and in this life dreams such as these mean only one thing.  
  
Kurt stays in bed, turning to his side and resting his hands as if in prayer under his cheek, supporting his head.  He closes his eyes and dips into the memory he has been reliving in his mind over and over these past few days.  
  
 _She lays on his bed on her stomach, elbows bent and digging into the comforter as he points to pictures in the book they are reading.  Her laugh, high and tinkling like far-off chimes, chases his around and out of the room, following it down the hall. Book forgotten, he stretches his 6-year-old arms wide to cuddle his mother’s back, so downy and soft.  She settles into the mattress, letting his weight push pleasantly down on her as she turns her head and smiles.  He knows the feathers there are covered in some substance- a thin film that is so soft to the touch  He’s heard his mom and dad talking about it before.  He remembers a time - not too long ago, actually, when his mother covered her wings with thin cotton sacks that pulled tight and knotted where the cascading feathers became one with her back.  Now, though, he gets to see them all the time, run his fingers through them and snuggle close into the down as she sings him a lullaby and hums deep in her throat._  
  
 _They always makes him feel so safe._  
  
 _This time he pulls his nose from her back and finally asks what he’s been wanting to know._  
  
 _“Mama?”_  
  
 _“Yes Kurt?” comes her reply, her mouth barely visible over the crest of her left wing._  
  
 _He runs his fingers over the smooth muscle underneath the thin, smooth feathers at the top of her wings, feeling it flex and shift under his fingertips._  
  
 _“Why do you have wings and Daddy doesn’t” he whispers, wondering if this is okay to ask._  
  
 _His mother lifts up on her elbows and pushes up to a sitting position, knocking Kurt off and he giggles as he climbs into her lap, incandescent brown wings with their dappled golden strains shimmering much like her hair, settling around them like a soft lair of protection._  
  
 _“Well, Kurt.  I’m so very lucky, you see.  Fortune has...” she pauses and stares thoughtfully at his bedroom wall, the ghost of a frown on her face, “...smiled upon me.  I am what they call “chosen”.  I have been blessed with the gift of flight.  It’s...it’s a funny blessing, Kurt, because having wings many, many years ago was looked upon as a holy thing...a religious thing.”_  
  
 _“What’s religious, mama?” he asks, tasting the word in his mouth, feeling it on his lips._  
  
 _“It’s when people believe in something greater than themselves, baby.  When they believe there is someone or something that is watching over them who created them.” she replies, holding him tight._  
  
 _“Are you religious, mama?” he had asked, craning his head up to look into her eyes so like his._  
  
 _She looks down at him, pondering a moment, before answering._  
  
 _“No, Kurt.  We are not.”_  
  
 _“Why, mama?  What are we, then?” he had wondered aloud, a little scared and a whole lot confused at the turn the conversation has taken._  
  
 _His mother sighs and releases her grip slightly as she began to rub his back._  
  
 _“Kurt. That is another question for another time, my love.  First let us answer your initial question.  Mama has wings because she was chosen by genetics - shh, we’ll talk of that later, too - and fate to have them.  Your daddy was not but that does not make him any less wondrous or special.  He loves me, Kurt.  He loves us.  And he protects me - and you - from the dangers in this world.  We are so very, very lucky that we have him.  He keeps us together and helps keep us strong.”_  
  
Kurt had a feeling, even at six, that when his mother had said “us” that day she had really meant “me”.  
  
 _Kurt ponders this a moment and asks the other question that has been burning his tongue for what seems like years._  
  
 _“Will-” he begins, biting his lip and deciding that no, this isn’t the time._  
  
 _And he feels his mother’s wingtips on his chin, pushing his face gently up to reach her gaze as she her eyes search his._  
  
 _“Maybe, Kurt.  Maybe.  We never know, my dear.  Before me it was your great-great grandfather.  Who’s to know?  Some say it’s because we are most “worthy”.  Some say it’s because a higher power chose us.  There is no rhyme or reason that we can prove, Kurt.  Whatever it is it will happen when you are older.  For now, though, let’s finish this book.”_  
  
And now that he knows - knows of the dangers that lurk and bite those who have been “chosen”, knows of the pain and despair some go through, the fear and molestation that they must face because of their kind. He knows now that his mother had told him the truth when she said they had no god.  
  
Because his mother had stopped believing long before he had come along.  
  
He now knows the arguments his parents had in deciding to give birth to him.  His mother’s anxious fear that he would be cursed with her “blessing”.  His father’s insistence that he would keep them safe - all of them safe - if he could create life with her.  Kurt doesn’t know what his father ended up doing or saying that had forced her hand but she had conceded and Kurt had been born.  
  
Kurt sighed and flipped onto his stomach, sighing angrily into the sheets and huffing out his frustration.  
  
In the end it was not his father’s fault or Kurt’s fault or even his mother’s “chosen” status that had robbed her of life.  In the end the cancer had done that, her feathers falling one by one, each like a silent symbol of her deteriorating health.  They watched as she would pick them up, delicately stroking each in turn, and store them away, tears slipping silently down her cheeks.  Then one day, a sunny, glorious day in May, the last feather had fallen, the membranes connecting her back and the sinewy muscles that controlled their flight shrunken and disfigured.  She had cried, her sobs swallowed by his father’s woolen sweater as he carried her to the backyard and Kurt poured them all - thousands of them of varying sizes and shapes, their gold now winking mockingly at him as they tumbled into the burn pit.  She lifted her gaze to him as tears tracked down his face and he doused them all with the lighter fluid his father had given him.  At 10 years old he knew how to strike a match from the box.  He knew how to do it but he couldn’t...he couldn’t bear to do this.  To destroy what was once his comfort and now his mother’s shame.  She had seen it, the stutter in his fingertips, the hitch in his breath as he brought the match to the box.  
  
“Kurt, please.  It’s what I want done.  I don’t want someone coming to try and take them from you...there are some that are still misguided - still think they can cure things and...” her voice had trailed off as she reached around to stroke what wasn’t there and another sob had caught in her throat as he pulled strength from the bottom of his toes and struck the match before flinging it into the pit, symbolically consuming what comfort his mother could provide him.  
  
Three days later they had buried her.  
  
Now, today, his shoulders throbbing and his mind frantic with fear of knowing, truly knowing that this was to happen to him, he had to face reality and go downstairs.  Break the news to his father.  And hope to a god they didn’t believe in that Burt would not have to endure such pain again.  
  
***

  
 _“Well, Jim, it looks like that’s all we’ve got today over in sports, back to you!”_  
  
 _“Why thanks, Paula!  Sounds like those cubs are going straight for the world series this year!  And now, our top story...police in Columbus today raided a warehouse on the outskirts of the city where a sign proclaiming it “Club Ornithos” revealed it to be holding a large number of the winged sect against their will, trafficking in “Carnal Ornithology” or the sexual study of birds.  The “birds” in question, of course, are humans of Aligerian descent and thus all principal operators and owners of the club were booked and detained pending bail.  The Committee for Aligerian Protection has been notified and Dr. Aristas Flax is expected to arrive later on in the week to begin a full investigation.  Dr. Flax, as you may recall...”_  
  
His father pressed the button on the remote, silencing the television with a sigh as he finished of the remains of his coffee and has just pulled himself from his seat to retrieve another cup when he notices Kurt and smiles.  
  
“Morning there, kiddo.  How’d ya sleep?  I thought I heard you in there I was passing by this morning.”  
  
Kurt tries to smile, he does, but he knows that in a matter of moments this cheerful banter will be gone and he will be a source of worry and dread for his father...and he doesn’t want that.  He’s never wanted that but...he knows that without telling his dad this will be ten thousand times harder.  He doesn’t even know what to expect - and without his mom to guide him through the process he doesn’t even know what kind of time he has until the changes begin.  
  
He leans against the counter and crosses his right arm in front of him, gripping his left elbow as he takes a deep breath and lets it out, eyebrows threading together, betraying his worry.  His dad notices, of course, and crosses the kitchen to snake his hand behind Kurt’s back and lay it on his shoulder blade, an action he’s done a million times before today and it had never mattered.  Never caused Kurt to tense up and spring back as his skin prickled and shouted at the touch.  
  
His dad’s eyes widened and then fell, his mouth an ‘O’ of surprise and then a tight line of...anger?  Sadness?  Disappointment?  Kurt couldn’t tell but he pressed forward with his plan anyway.  
  
“Dad.  I’ve had the dream four times now.  And...it’s not going away.  And I feel...I feel it.  It’s going to happen.  I- Dad...Daddy, I need your help.”  
  
His dad stared at him a moment, his eyes brimming and his face contorting with emotions that didn’t matter - couldn’t because he had to help his son through this, had to make the world outside obey the command that his son was  _no one’s_  to take or abuse.  
  
He opened his arms and Kurt fell into them, his sobs a stabbing cadence drowning out the sound of toaster signaling it’s completion on the counter.


	2. Chapter 2

Kurt is out back, swinging gently in the hammock his dad had strung randomly between two trees soon after his mom had passed away.  They would take “swing time” at the end of each day, Kurt lying on his dad’s chest, his dad pretending it didn’t matter that he was 10 years old and cuddling close using his shop-roughened arms as a protective shield from the world.  
  
That didn’t work now, of course.  Not that his dad wouldn’t try - he’s sure of this.  It would just be...awkward.  
  
Kurt sighs and pushes his right leg off the edge, catching the ground with his foot and shoving it hard.  He pulls his leg back up as the wind catches his hair, the strands lifting and fanning out over his forehead.    
  
The wind.  He seems so conscious of it now; the pull is overwhelming, calling him to the sky.  It’s not like the wind didn’t exist before today but today is the day he notices the way it arcs and drags through the sky, notices the subtle change in temperature as it moves and collides with invisible currents.  He closes his eyes thoughtfully, his skin prickling, brow furrowed as he thinks about the day he’s had.    
  
He had talked with his dad for over an hour in the kitchen regarding everything from the actual changing process called “becoming” to long-term planning like schooling and jobs for those of Aligerian descent.  Apparently there are two schools in Ohio that “specialize in the protection and education” of students like Kurt.  One is co-ed and 4 hours away but since they hadn’t settled on that one Kurt can’t recall the name. His father had spent an hour on the phone with both McKinley and the school he would be transferring to - Dalton Academie for Celestial Descendants.  Neither Kurt nor his father favor the archaic name - the school had opened in 1800 - but they offer generous scholarships to students who are in the process of “becoming”, and will provide protection to him.  
  
That’s all that really matters to Kurt because McKinley had been rough this year (even though it’s only November) and  he was already dreading living through the rest of it before...this. Being gay in a Glee club with his voice and...well, let’s just say Karofsky and the rest of the football team had been tossing him around more and more often.  No one seemed to notice and that was the thing that pained Kurt so much...no one even seemed to care.  This week’s assignment had been the final blow - boys versus girls.  And Mr. Shue had made him work with the boys...and they had basically shut him out of the plans.    
  
Kurt pushes the ground again, continuing in his oscillating movement.  
  
It IS serendipitous that he is visiting Dalton tomorrow to see what it’s all about.  
  
To see if it feels safe.  
  
***  
  
Their meeting at Dalton is alternately surreal and inspiring.    
  
Yes, they have had Kurt on their list of possible students since his birth.  Yes, they do offer scholarships to “potentials” but, even better, Kurt will have a full scholarship since he is already well on the way to “becoming”.  Yes, they have a zero-tolerance rule for bullying and harassment in their school - whether it be race, sexuality, creed, or Aligerian.  Yes, he will be assigned both a “mentor student” (for the ins-and-outs of Dalton culture) and a “transformation counselor” (who will tutor him on the rituals associated with his metamorphosis and the things that will happen because of it).  
  
His father asks all the questions Kurt had wanted assurance in - can he have visitors?  (Yes, during visitor hours posted in the dormitories.)  Do they have a Glee Club?  (Yes, the Dalton Academie Warblers are actually very well known both locally and, in historical terms, nationally.)  Do they allow packages delivered? (Yes, although the postmaster checks the contents which doesn’t really bother Kurt as long as he gets his Marc Jacobs.)  
  
These things, the beautiful state of the campus, and the ability to have a single dorm room (because of his transformational status) seal the deal for Burt, Carole (his father’s new wife), and Kurt.  After signing more papers than Kurt can even keep count of, acquiring keys to his dorm room and mail box and being assigned a parking space for his navigator they’re off to meet his mentor.  The headmaster, Dr. Togapi, pauses in the office to request the student paged to the common eatery as they make their way down the stairs and out into the sunshine.  
  
As soon as they enter the eatery Kurt knows he has made a wise decision.  Instead of cafeteria chic, this building is old-world formal in dark wood and deep reds and creams.  On the wall there are discreet signs advertising the menu choices of the day and Kurt is pleased to see that they they employ the use of actual dinnerware.  If this weren’t enough there’s also many varieties of-  
  
“Coffee!” Kurt grins, smiling at his father at his good fortune.  As soon as he turned 14 he had asked his father if he could try the bitter drink and had fallen in love with the options it presented...while still watching his waist.  His dad chuckles to himself while he makes his way to get his favorite coffee.  
  
“Grande nonfat mocha,” he breathes to himself.  
  
“Yeah, I prefer medium drip, but what do I know?” comes a voice to his right.  Kurt grabs a lid and turns to greet the sound only to stop short, coffee sloshing over the lip of the cup and pooling in a hot mess on the web between his thumb and pointer finger.  He shakes his hand, blushing brightly and smiling at the boy responsible for his stinging hand.    
  
Shit. Shit shit shit.  he thinks.  It was bad enough when I liked Finn.  At least I could avoid him...at least I could-  
  
“Hello, I’m Blaine Anderson.  Are you Kurt?” the young man with the amber eyes inquires as he smiles and grabs some napkins, wiping gently at Kurt’s hand and backing away a step, the corners of his lips still raised as his question hangs in the air between them.  
  
Kurt mentally kicks himself as he realizes he’s been staring. Blaine’s his cheekbones, his full lips, and impish grin aren’t helping his cause.  Why did Blaine have to end up being so beautiful?  Why?  
  
He finds his voice and flashes the best smile he can muster as he responds, “Yes, yes, that’s me.  Apparently I can’t be trusted with anything today, though, so it’s a good thing they sent for you.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes widen and then he chuckles, gesturing toward the table where his father and Dr. Togapi are waiting for them.  Kurt is about to ask him another question when a blonde boy enters the room and...  
  
And he can’t stop staring.  The boy looks like any number of boys that Kurt has seen before but...  
  
Blaine flicks his eyes at Kurt before stepping forward and putting his hand on the boy’s shoulder and inclining his head toward him.  
  
“Jeff,” Blaine intones, smiling at Kurt, “This is Kurt Hummel.  He’s our newest Warbler-in-training!  Kurt, this is Jeff.  Class clown extraordinaire and only slightly mentally deficient in the area of mathemati-”

  
“HEY!” Jeff argued as he poked Blaine in the ribs and smiled, “You don’t have to give away ALL of my secrets the second I meet the guy, Anderson.”  
  
Blaine laughs and shoves his shoulder against Jeff’s before Jeff is making his way toward the counter, his yellow-gold wings ruffling slightly in the breeze from the ceiling fans above, their feathers spread wide on his back, grazing the top of his spine.  They were not the fullest or longest set of wings Kurt had ever seen, but the fact that Kurt could SEE them was the difference.  Jeff seemed so comfortable, so content and...Kurt’s thoughts trail off as he walks beside Blaine to join the headmaster and his father.  
  
“So does everyone-”  
  
“Yes,” Blaine replies, his eyes catching Kurt’s as they make their way across the crowding room.  Must be break, thinks Kurt as Blaine continues. “The policy is very clear on what is and is not allowed which is really a breath of fresh air for all of the winged here.  They don’t have to cover their wings and bind them down, they don’t have to deal with the welts between feathers that happen over time when they are bagged with no where to molt properly.  No one touches them...well, I’ve never seen it happen and I don’t know anyone who remembers a time when it did.  You wanted to touch them, though, didn’t you?”  
  
Kurt stops dead and stares at Blaine, his face flushing, eyes widening.  
  
“But I didn’t...I never said...” he stutters, embarrassed.  Because he had wanted to touch them, and badly.  It’s like his fingers itched to run through them, feel their softness and lean in to breathe them in.  
  
Blaine just smiles and pats Kurt’s arm.    
  
“It’s okay, Kurt.  It’s a human thing - whether you’re destined to be winged or not - for some reason we just want to touchthem.  It took awhile when I first got here...not to just touch.  Because that would've been...awkward, not to mention a deal-breaker.” He breaks here and laughs, the sound filling Kurt’s chest with feelings that he just wasn’t looking for anddammit this is going to be hard but- “So you train your hands to keep still and just...take in the beauty of it all.  We really are very lucky, you know.  There are very few places left in this world where this can happen...so much...freedom.  And they trust us every day, Kurt, every single day to keep them safe.  It is an honor to be here amongst them all.”  
  
Kurt finds himself speechless at Blaine’s words.  He’s never been privy to any of this and Blaine’s perspective on it is...revolutionary, to say the least.  
  
Yes, he thinks. I can definitely feel safe here.


	3. Chapter 3

Slowly but surely Kurt becomes accustomed to life at Dalton.

  


  
At first his misses McKinley sorely, sending endless texts to Mercedes and Rachel, commenting on everything from the young men around him to the color of the drapes in the junior common area. As the days become weeks, though, the men of Dalton start to carve out a place in his heart and, although it isn't home, the combination of good-natured joking, singing together in amazing harmony, and a curriculum that actually challenges Kurt gradually pulls him in.  
  
It could've been the delicious food that solidified his love for the place or how his laundry and towels were picked up on Tuesdays and Fridays and always returned with his washing instructions followed to the letter.  
  
It could've been that his popular culture class was currently reading a story called The Hunger Games that, although written for middle grade readers, had begun to trap an entire nation in its snare of post-apocalyptic humanity.  
  
Another possibility was his actual room, adorned with furniture typical of a dorm room but with a touch of old-school class and elegance. A ridiculously large claw-footed bathtub and stand-up shower in the bathroom, a wardrobe instead of a dresser, and a high-set bed that required a stool to get into.  
  
It even could've been the Warblers, with their matching school blazers, spot-on pitch, and intricately laid council framework that pulled Kurt in.  
  
But...it is none of these things.  
  
Instead it is his mentor student, Blaine, who has him smitten with Dalton. Literally and figuratively.  
  
Blaine's room is down the hall from Kurt's – a single even though Kurt knows Blaine has never shown any signs of becoming. His parents just want to make sure he is ready – just in case – and they have the money to provide that net. Kurt had found out quickly that Blaine's parents are of a unique mindset. It is obvious that they love their son and support him...from afar. Blaine lives his life at arm’s length, his parents both heavily involved in the jobs they hold. Neither Dr. nor Mrs. Anderson is winged. Blaine jokes that any member of his family would probably die of shock if he were to actually acquire wings as it has been a full six generations since any of the Andersons have been chosen by whatever fate or design causes such things to happen.  Even then it had been Dr. Anderson's great, great, great, great, great, great grandMOTHER that had had them.  
  
Even still he is allowed here. Just in case. And in Blaine's case it is just as well as middle school had been a nightmare of taunting and threats from other students.  
  
Being a potential angel who is gay seems like a waste to so many.  
  
To Kurt, however, it ss an exercise in self-control and discipline. He and Blaine fell into fast friendship, confiding in each other, taking solace in their mutual experiences with the less than open minded people in their respective worlds. Blaine's smile falters and his eyes grow distant when Kurt asks questions at times and then, miraculously, he speaks at Kurt's urging; months of turmoil spilling free, Kurt's compassion and empathy a healing balm. Blaine often remarks how free he feels being here now, with Kurt. How utterly complete. And it was at these times that Kurt has to look away from his eyes, from his lashes that fan so perfect a frame around them and breath because there is no way – no actual way – that Blaine can want him like he wants Blaine.  
  
The more time he spends with Blaine – listening to music together with their heads sharing a pillow, talking about the melodies and whether or not they would work for the Warblers while Blaine's shoulder presses into his and his fingertips dance at the edge of Kurt's, skipping down the hall with Kurt's name bubbling over his lips to share news or a well-earned grade, or just drinking coffee quietly in the silence of the library watching Blaine's mind mull over and tear through reference after reference - the more Kurt fell.  
  
He finds that he doesn’t mind that he is falling. Not if Blaine can catch him.  
  
And thus Kurt slowly begins to lose his mind because, well,  _Blaine_.    
  
In class: Blaine chewing his lip before raising his hand to answer a question.    
  
In the hall: Blaine shaking his hips and bumping them sidelong into Kurt’s whilst humming along and then bursting out choreography ideas as they make their way to Warbler practice.  
  
In his  _room_ : Blaine lying back on his bed, eyes fixed on Kurt’s iPod as he scrolls through its contents, exclaiming about some song or another, his brow furrowing and then lifting as he reads through the songs he finds there and then smiling up at Kurt in his desk chair.  
  
Kurt isn’t sure what to think of Blaine at this point.   Sometimes when Kurt looks up at him he finds that Blaine has been staring at him while he is working on a paper or listening to music but then Blaine’s eyes flick back to whatever he has been focusing on, leaving Kurt wondering if he’s been seeing things.    
  
And then last night…  
  
It wasn’t meant to happen but happen it had.  So here he is, lying on his stomach in the middle of his bed and pining...actually  _pining_  for Blaine.  Willing the familiar  _knock knock *pause* kn-knock knock_  that signals Blaine is outside to come and rescue him from this self-torture.    
  
They had been lying on Kurt’s bed, watching Love Actually (“Kurrrt, c’mon it’s almost Chrisssstmas and I want to watch it and no one will watch it with me at home, you know that!” “...fine...FINE Blaine, okay!  Stop poking my stomach!”), a bowl of popcorn balanced between their hips  and Kurt’s heart practically beating out of his chest each time Blaine’s fingers brushed his in the bowl when Kurt felt them.  Little pulls and tugs at his shoulder blades.  Not painful really, but uncomfortable.  He had suffered in silence and then, somewhere around Aurelia’s dip in the eely waters of the pond, a sharp twinge had sent him bolt upright, mostly empty popcorn bowl flying, strangled yelp leaping from his mouth.  
  
Blaine had sat up quickly, concern etched on his face while placing his hand gently on Kurt’s back.  Sitting up had been the wrong move, Kurt’s muscles tense, screaming at him, his skin seeming to ripple and burn until Blaine’s hands were on his back.  
  
“Kurt!  Kurt are you...”  
  
Kurt tried to stop his body from easing into Blaine’s touch but he felt powerless against it, his body calling to be smoothed over and gently soothed by Blaine’s fingertips.  
  
Blaine felt it, the smooth tilt of Kurt’s body as his fingers found what Kurt had been hiding away...the puffy patches of skin under his thin shirt, spreading slowly but surely over his back as his time of becoming creeping ever closer.  He had known he should’ve called for his transformation counselor by now but there is no one he felt as comfortable with as Blaine, no one who knew him so fast and so well.  And Blaine knows all he is hiding now.  
  
Kurt had breathed out, his lungs tight with nervousness and self-loathing.  He hates the burgeoning welts on his back, spreading further and wider than he thinks is healthy.  Each night he sits in his private bathroom (its tub half of the room, enough for easily three people to lay down in to assist with the process later...) half turned ‘round on himself and stare...his skin pushing out, still opaque yet filling softly with...what?  He is still too afraid to ask.  
  
“I...” he began, searching Blaine’s eyes as the other boy’s hands gently slid up and back down his back, smoothing over the pinpoints of pain that ultimately came with the change of his physiology and calming the nerves there.  “I think it’s just part of...it, Blaine.  You know?  I...”  
  
And he had burst into tears.    
  
Blaine had held him, his strong hands still soothing, whispering  _shhh_ s and  _it’s going to be alright_ s into his left ear before pulling back and lifting Kurt’s chin.  
  
“What is it, Kurt?  Does it...is it bad?”  
  
Kurt had hiccupped, embarrassed by his tears, wiping furiously at his cheeks before responding.“It’s not...ugh, it’s not _that_ , Blaine.  _That_  I expected.  It’s...my back...it’s so...” He had stopped, trying to calm his accelerated breath, sucking in gulps of air, trying to calm himself, “I’m...I’m so  _ugly_.”  
  
Blaine’s eyes had widened and he had pushed forward, turning Kurt’s body and tugging at his shirt.  
  
“What are you-” Kurt began, fingers tearing at Blaine’s hands, “No...no, no, no...you can’t, it’s so, I just...”  
  
“Kurt,” Blaine breathed, his lips next to Kurt’s ear, his fingertips brushing the skin at the base of his spine, “Kurt...I...please?  Just...let me see.”  
  
Kurt had shuddered, his mind screaming no while his head and heart nodded yes and Blaine had pulled up the back of his shirt.  
  
Blaine stared, the angry red welts the largest... _fullest_...at the area directly above Kurt’s shoulder blades and then spreading out...down, down, disappearing below the waistband of his sweats (which, Blaine realized, Kurt was actually wearing a lot now which had struck him as odd seeing as how Kurt seemed like a particularly fashion-conscience guy).    
  
Blaine stared; tracing the lines of what would become Kurt’s tether to the world of the winged, until he had heard it.    
  
Kurt’s tiny sobs.  
  
He pulled his gaze from Kurt’s back and saw his friend’s shoulders shake, his hands covering his face and he just...  
  
Blaine began at the center; the place where the welts were practically scarlet, and kissed.  
  
Kurt had gasped, arching his back, a startled cry torn from his throat as Blaine covered every angry patch of skin on Kurt’s back, soothing the harsh red, humming his encouragement against Kurt’s skin.  
  
When he finally pulled away, Kurt had turned to him, his face a question, and seen.  Blaine’s eyes a thunderstorm, his face set with determination.  
  
“You’re beautiful.  Amazingly, life-alteringly beautiful, Kurt.  And I’ve...I’ve known that since the moment I saw you...and I…I just...”  
  
Suddenly his lips had been on Kurt’s, his tongue dragging, asking, entering Kurt’s mouth and filling it, owning it, taking every ounce of desire Kurt had in him and setting it on fire.  
  
And...

  
And then Kurt had pulled free and ran out of the room.


	4. Chapter 4

Kurt just breathes as he closes his door behind him and makes his way down the hall, passing one, two, three doors before stopping in front of Blaine’s and wrapping his arms around his waist.  
  
 _You can do this.  He doesn’t have to come to you.  YOU’RE the one who ran away._

His eyes rove over the door, a deep walnut brown with Blaine’s schedule carefully slipped into a page protector and clipped in the clamp on the door, his name neatly typed at the top.  Next to the door at eye level is his mini-white board.  Kurt’s eyes widen as he takes in what Blaine’s written there in his (surprisingly) messy scrawl:  
  
 _“And all I can taste is this moment_  
 _And all I can breathe is your life_  
 _Cuz sooner or later it's over_  
 _I just don't want to miss you tonight.”_  
  
 _I’m ready.  Are you?_  
  
This can’t be for him.  It  _can’t_... but who else could it be for?  And why did he leave it HERE?  Was it here last night?  Yesterday? Kurt can’t recall.  Last night he had doggedly passed this spot with his eyes downcast as he finally returned to his room after an hour of hiding in the emergency stairwell.  
  
 _I am.  I so am._ He tells himself as he moves forward and knocks on the door and waits.  
  
And waits.  
  
And waits.  
  
 _He’s just not there or maybe I’m too late_  Kurt thinks... but then there’s movement from within and the knob is turning.  
  
Red-rimmed amber eyes search his and he sucks in a breath before speaking.  “See, what’s really embarrassing is that I think,” Kurt begins, his eyes never leaving Blaine’s, “I think I already maybe  _love_  you and I really didn’t know if I could deal with that AND with the win-”  
  
“I think I love you, too.”  Blaine whispers, reaching out to drag his fingers down Kurt’s arms, gently pulling them away from his stomach and pulling Kurt close to wrap them around Blaine’s waist, bringing his nose up to brush against Kurt’s before speaking again, louder even though they are so, so close.  “Please don’t run away from me again.  Please. I- it took everything I have not to come to you, to wait for you to choose and I can’t... I don’t think I can do that again without you to talk to about it, you know?  You’re, well, you’re my best friend now, Kurt.  The best thing in my life, actually, and I just-”  
  
Kurt kisses him then, moving them into Blaine’s room and closing out the rest of the world.

  
***

  
“ee - AH - nah.”  
  
“Okay, wait.  That’s how you say his name?”  
  
“No, Blaine.  That’s how you say HER name.  Iana is a woman, okay?”  
  
“It does not even look like that on this piece of paper.  Wow, okay.”  
  
Kurt’s lying on Blaine’s bed, stomach down with his sock feet in the air.  He sighs before answering.  
  
“Well, Dr. Togapi insists I’ll like her.  I was a little weirded out by the fact that she’s a  _she_  but we’ll see...”  
  
His appointment is in fifteen minutes.  Iana is supposed to meet him in his room.  She doesn’t know it yet, but Blaine will be there, too.    
  
In the five days since Kurt had stood in front of Blaine’s door willing himself to be brave, a lot had happened.  Blaine had insisted that they go to talk to Dr. Togapi, who had in turn insisted Kurt be seen by the school physician, Dr. Marcos.  Dr. Marcos had given him a thorough examination and then she had informed him that it was time - beyond time, actually - to seek out the assistance of a transformation counselor and that one would be assigned to him as soon as possible.  
  
Which brings us to right now.  This moment.  He’s about to meet this woman and he’s  _terrified_.  
  
“What if... what if she thinks I’m stupid because I don’t know much about it other than, well, what we’ve heard on the news?” Kurt asks Blaine, burying his face in the rich fabric of his comforter.  
  
Blaine crosses the room and Kurt feels the bed dip beside him and then Blaine is draped over his back, warm comfort that awakens something deep in his stomach.    
  
He keeps trying to tell it to shut up. That it isn’t necessary to feel like  _this_  every time Blaine so much as breathes on him but... he can’t help it.  Kissing Blaine has been... heaven and so, so sexy and... awkward, actually.  Kissing Blaine heats like burning and when it happens it’s like his whole body just thrums and his blood beats out his name.  So things... come up.  Between them.    
  
Kurt doesn’t know where it’s coming from, either, because even a week ago he  _swears_  this wouldn’t happen... that he could be stronger - smarter, and ignore all the temptation that swirls around Blaine, even at this moment.  But right now, on this day?  Never.  It’s like Blaine has the sweetest skin and even him in his t-shirt right now is an absurd amount of skin to be showing to Kurt.  Doesn’t he even  _see_  how it effects him?  Guh, it’s so frustrating.  
  
“Blaine... Blaaaaine,” he whines and Blaine makes some sound of question in return.  “You have to get off of me, okay, or this is going to be  _really_  embarrassing when she gets here... I mean, more than it already will be, okay?”  
  
Blaine giggles low in his throat and  _shitfuckNO_  he’s dragging his tongue over the back of Kurt’s neck and nuzzling into the tender spot at the base of his skull and oh, hey NOW biting at the tendons there.  It’s too much, Blaine over him and biting him, making him hard in moments and he can’t take this at all-  
  
Kurt rolls, knocking Blaine off of the bed in his attempt to break free and hears Blaine laughing on the other side of the bed, sprawled out on the floor.  
  
“Oh, ha  _ha._   Yes, oh, okay.  It’s so funny to you, right?  Yeah?  It’s  _not_  funny, Blaine... I mean... okay, so it’s not like you don’t  _know_  or anything so, like,  _look_  at me.  Just... just LOOK.  Ohhhhhhh my god.”  Kurt’s embarrassed and teasing, a half-smile playing at the corners of his mouth.  
  
Blaine’s eyes appear over the edge of the bed to inspect Kurt, whose ears are bright red, cheeks flushed, and whose chest rising and falling swiftly.  His eyes descend and  _oh lord he did that to Kurt and jesusfuck is that hot and-_    
  
“So sweatpants are not so good at camouflage, huh?” Blaine smirks, pulling his arms up and crossing them on the duvet before lying his chin on them and lifting and staring pointedly at Kurt’s crotch before looking up into the clearly irritated eyes of his boyfriend.  
  
“C’mon, you.  You’re lucky I’m still letting you come with me,” replies Kurt airily.  
  
***  
  
When she comes, she is unlike anything Kurt or Blaine have ever seen.  Kurt doesn’t know what he was expecting... he has seen some winged that look very... well, normal.  Just... blend in with the crowd in yoga pants and a shirt until you notice the bag on their back is not a backpack.    
  
Not Iana.  
  
He opened the door at her knock and took a step back, awed.  If Iana were what all of the winged looked like he could see how once they were revered as godlike.  She’s wearing a form-fitting grey sweater dress with black swaths of fabric criss-crossing the front giving it an asymmetrical quality.  Her toned legs are wrapped in skin-tight black leggings and she’s wearing leather boots that hug the length of her calf with buttons up the sides.  Her strawberry blonde hair is swept up and held by shimmering miniature black fabric roses, ringlets cascading down her back.  Her eyes are warm and inviting, deep green and expressive.  Kurt is immediately taken with her sense of style and her confident air.  
  
It is her wings, though, that capture them both.  Arching at least an inch above her shoulders with tips brushing the tops of her thighs they are easily the longest wings either boy has ever seen.  The effect is breathtaking.  
  
After a moment or two of both boys just staring, Iana takes command of the situation.  
  
“You can touch them, you know.  I won’t bite.”  
  
Kurt just stares, afraid to even  _breathe_  on the exquisite creature in his room. Iana senses his fear and steps closer to turn and spread her wings in front of him.  
  
“It’s okay, Kurt.  They’re covered - you might not have seen it before, but it’s a bio-film that-”  
  
“I’ve seen it,” he whispers, thinking of the last feathers he had touched, the way they had felt beneath his fingertips and then- how they had twisted and burned in the pit that day.  His fingers twitch and he realizes he’s trembling, the weight of his control shaking him to the core.  He takes a deep breath and reaches out, closer, closer until he’s brushing the gentle slide of her red-tinged down and he is lost; his fingers stroking and feeling.  Remembering.  
  
He has to remind himself to breath as he steps forward and pushes his cheek to Iana’s back, tears welling up and running over, his heart full to bursting with memories.  
  
“Oh my god,” he breathes, “You are so beautiful.”  
  
***  
  
“I’m so sorry, I-” Kurt begins but Iana shushes him and sips at her coffee, settling down into the comfortable easy chair in the corner of his spacious room.  
  
“So, Kurt.  I know that your mom was winged but she’s gone now... what did you learn, if anything, from her and what do you know?” Iana asks quietly, settling in, her folded wings draped gracefully behind her.  
  
“Well,” he begins, nervously glancing at Blaine.  He knows Blaine knows something about this and it’s going to be an awkward conversation but... if they are together they need to do this together.  “... I know that my mom had bio-film like you do.  I know it cost my entire grandfather’s estate to have it made for her, too.  Uh, I know that our kind used to be revered and now we’re more like... a novelty... viewed as a species almost designed for...”  
  
He gulps.  He doesn’t want to say this, to admit to what he fears for his future but he has to.  Iana needs to know what he knows - or thinks he knows.  
  
“... designed for sexual pleasure.  Our wings are... responsive to touch and many people have turned our kind into slaves and prostitutes.  Where we were once revered, we are now manipulated, used.  Um... I know that it hurts to become until it doesn’t but no one says what happens then and I really want to know because, well...”  
  
And he stands to show her, to be honest with her because that is why she is here.  To know and to help.  
  
Kurt pulls on the bottom of his shirt and pulls it up and off, turning his back on Iana and revealing the puffed, bruised skin there.  His entire back is swollen, filled and tight with  _becoming_.  He straightens his back and peels down the back of his sweat pants, unashamed of showing Iana his body because, he tells himself, it has to be done.  He glances at Blaine and is relieved to see that the other boy has averted his gaze.    
  
The welts continue down the curve of Kurt’s ass and over the tight muscles of his thighs, all the way down to the back of his knees.  Bending his legs has become more and more difficult over the last few days, and he just wants answers.  Is this normal?  Should he expect it to go  _lower_?  
  
“Well now, Kurt,” Iana murmurs, her fingers laced around her coffee cup, “it seems as though yours will be even longer than mine are, and that, my dear, is a rare feat indeed!”  
  
Kurt pulls himself back together and turns to smile at her as he eases himself onto his bed, assuming the same position he had had at Blaine’s.  Lately, it’s his most comfortable position.  
  
“Well,” Iana begins, “It seems that you are getting pretty close to the actual reveal, my friend.  The tightness of your skin, the size of the welts - all tell-tale signs.  I would give you 3 days - 5 tops.  Which means we have a lot to talk about.  I’m going to give you a run down of what I know, okay?  And then we’ll start making plans.”  
  
Kurt nods, eager to hear what she has to say.  
  
“What you say is true.  Our kind has become a spectacle in this century. Long ago we  _were_  revered.  Held in such esteem that even kings would bow to us.  We are still held in high esteem, of course, but in a different way.  I’ve had many women ask me what it’s like to have sex because of my race.  I’ve had men who stroke me, pet me, and undress me with their eyes before they have ever even heard me speak.  On some twisted level it’s flattering, really, to have so many be so interested in you.  It can be dizzying at times.”  
  
She sips her coffee again and Kurt watches her, the grace of her legs sitting crossed loosely in a knot as her lithe body relaxes into the chair.  She glances at Blaine and moves on.  
  
“Under your skin you are growing your wings, Kurt.  Your body is made to begin creating feathers with a thin protective layer enveloping it close to your body.  I know it looks almost blister-like, but what’s inside is not an infection or anything bad.  On that contrary, it’s a bit like emerging from a chrysalis.  They form under your skin and then, when they are close to bursting, we help you remove and dispose of the outer covering.”  
  
“So... what’s the catch, though.  I’ve heard rumors and I just... I need to know.”  
  
Iana eyes Kurt then and glances pointedly at Blaine before continuing.  
  
“When I was assisted with my becoming my counselor was a woman as well.  She was a mother with three small children.  The idea is to give you someone that you will not become awkwardly sexually needy of.  One has a tendency to become incredibly attached to their counselor once they have gone through the process together and thus they attempt to give you someone with whom you would rather not have sex.”  
  
Kurt shakes his head, “I don’t understand... why is it such a big deal?”  
  
Iana sighs.  “Listen, Kurt.  I don’t know how much sexual experience you have here but... you know why feathers need a bio-covering, right?”  
  
Kurt breathes deep, settling himself.  “Yes.  Because if you touch them you... well, you orgasm, right?”  
  
“Right,” Iana continues, “but it’s a little more complicated than that. I don’t know much about you, Kurt, other than what’s in your file about your mom and all.  So.  Let me be clear - I am going to be as specific as possible in this discussion and it may be a little uncomfortable for you to hear... are you sure that you want Blaine here for this?”  
  
Kurt can tell she’s not trying to be condescending; on the contrary, she’s trying to be as helpful and open as possible.  He glances at Blaine, who is sitting by his side on the bed, his fingertips loosely twined in Kurt’s.  Blaine gives a small nod and Kurt nuzzles his head into the soft curve of his boyfriend’s thigh before looking back to Iana.  
  
“I’m sure.” He replies simply.  
  
Iana nods and begins.  
  
“Okay then.  I know how you’re feeling right now, Kurt.  It’s like every touch that Blaine gives you makes you burn with need, right?”  
  
Kurt blushes right down to the soles of his feet and nods, feeling Blaine still beside him.   _Okay, so we ARE getting right to it, then_  he thinks.  
  
“It’s not like that’s uncommon for anyone your age,” Iana continues, “but what’s different for you - and was for me - is how intense and lingering it is.  It’s like it’s in your blood and nothing will sedate you.  I know because I’ve had it happen.  And before you ask, we don’t know why.  Some think that it’s the natural instinct to continue the race, some believe it has to do with the wings themselves representing freedom of all - including sexuality.  No matter what it is though, Kurt, it burns within us at a greater pace, a more intent  _need_.  Science and technology are on our side in that - hundreds of studies have been done on our bodies and minds and it is not just your imagination or your inability to properly control yourself.  During the time of leading up to becoming and during the act itself it is the most heightened - at times almost a painful need that your body will stop at nothing to acquire.  Thus the need for Transformation Counselors.”  
  
Kurt feels like he can barely breathe.  Had this happened to his mother?  This need?  From what Iana said the answer was most surely yes but-  
  
“You said that counselors are picked so that we will not become - sexually dependant on them.  What does that mean?”   
  
Iana clears her throat.  “Well, that’s the thing.  When one chooses to be a counselor we know how you work - biologically - during becoming.  We know that the process is an incredibly, um, erotic one.”  
  
“Erotic?” Kurt echoes, disbelieving.  “But... but I thought it was painful?”  
  
“Oh, well you’ve done the painful part, actually.  Growing them under your skin, it stretching to accommodate their growth, finding ways to move while it’s happening.  All of that IS very painful.  But the actual act - no.  It’s... it’s something else entirely.”  
  
Kurt is quiet a moment, lost in thought before speaking.  
  
“Is that why it’s you?  I mean... you’re beautiful and obviously intelligent and - thank god for small favors - incredibly stylish.  But... you’re a woman so I wouldn’t get... attached?”  
  
Iana smiles, the gesture meeting her eyes. “You are too kind, but yes.  That’s why.  Because we know with certainty that this will be an experience for you that will be incredibly intimate and things may... happen that could make you think that you are attached to me in a romantic way when we are not.  I hope this isn’t too confusing for you... I know your sexuality.  But Kurt, in that moment, it’s about need.  Pure, carnal, older than life need.  I know what I’m doing and why I’m there, which tethers me to reality.  It will be harder for you.”  
  
Kurt realizes that Blaine is shaking beside him and he glances up to see his jaw clenched, his eyes bright with unshed tears.  
  
“Blaine what’s wro-”  
  
Blaine shakes his head firmly, and motions to Iana to continue.  
  
“I know, Blaine,” she said. “It’s hard.  It really is.  Many times people choose their partner to be with them during their becoming if they are over 16.  It is an option for you both if Kurt is wanting to do that, but I don’t know how, um, experienced either of you are or if this is something you are both ready for. It’s a thing that happens to our kind and it just... it’s not something that I’m proud of but it IS the way it has always been.”  
  
Kurt shifts uncomfortably on the bed, his back aching to be touched as he realizes why Blaine is so upset.    
  
Because he has no choice.  No choice in how his first real sexual experiences will play out... he’ll be like an animal, something feral that needs to be placated and yeah, he’ll always remember it but it’s not the romantic gesture that he has dreamed of - that Blaine knows he has thought of for a long time.  
  
He has known for a long time that Aligerians are viewed as sexual creatures and that some view them as toys to be used and then forgotten.    
  
But he didn’t know that the physiology of the Aligerians  _themselves_  added fuel to the fire.  
  
“That’s why the wings are covered,” he pipes up, putting two and two together, finally.  “It’s not just to protect people from having their feathers taken for religious rituals or weird voodoo charms, is it?  It’s because the wings have something about the-”  
  
“Yes,” Iana interrupts, setting aside her finished coffee cup.  “The bio-film that I have on my wings is exorbitant in cost but has made my life much more bearable.  Most cannot afford to use the film as it is an exact genetic match to my wings.  Only I can put it on - it fuses to my feathers by genetic code - and only I know how to take it off - it’s a series of taps and slides at a certain point on my wings.  I can still feel that people are touching them if they choose to do so, but the human touch that seems to activate the sexual response is effectively neutralized.”  
  
“What if...” Kurt begins, looking away, embarrassed.  
  
“Kurt, you can ask me ANYthing.  That’s why I’m here,” Iana soothes, exiting the chair and settling next to him on the floor by the bed. “I asked for this assignment because you - your story, _your_  flair called to  _me_.  So be honest with me and let me know how to help you.”  
  
Kurt’s chest fills with appreciation for this young woman - she can’t be more than 24 - and he pulls himself together to carry on.  
  
“What if  _you_  touch your wings?  Is that like... is it like... masturbation?  That’s weird.”  
  
Iana laughs a little and smiles. “Okay, yeah that WOULD be weird.  But it’s kind of like tickling.  You can’t tickle yourself, right?  Not really?  Because your body is anticipating it.  Besides, it’s about  _other_  people touching for some reason or another.  So... no, it’s not like that.  I would never leave my house, right?”  
  
All three laugh at that.  Iana makes them feel so comfortable and then Blaine speaks, quietly but surely.  “Iana?”  
  
“Yes, Blaine?”  
  
“So if Kurt were to have someone else be there for his... for his becoming, what would they have to do?”  
  
Kurt turns to Blaine, eyebrow upraised but Blaine is determinedly avoiding his gaze.  
  
Iana looks from one boy to the other and considers them a moment before responding.  
  
“Well, if Kurt were to have someone else there I would need to train that person how to cut open the back tissue when it begins its cracking process and properly remove all traces of it to prevent infection.  I would need to show them how to unfold and cleanse the wings to begin the drying process and-” She cuts off here, eyeing Blaine as if coming to some conclusion. “Well, you would need to watch an actual becoming to know what to expect.  Kurt would be the same person. The same man you love and the same soul that drew you to him in the first place but... you would need to know that everything about him and his... sexual energy... would be compounded tenfold.  You would need to learn to train yourself to focus on what he will need and want and to put aside any expectations that you thought you had and just  _do_.  There will not be room for excessive thought, just acceptance, deftness of hand and... well...”  
  
Iana pauses and looks into Kurt’s eyes.  
  
“Flexibility.”   
  
***  
  
“Do you want to do it?”  
  
Blaine chokes, bringing his water glass down from his hand and setting it down with a clatter while he sputters and coughs the water out of his windpipe.  
  
Kurt laughs and rubs good-naturedly at his back while he composes himself.  
  
“Uhhh, do what?” Blaine questions, fixing Kurt with his amber stare.  
  
“Be there for my becoming.  I-” Kurt stops, gathering his thoughts and realizing how very vulnerable he feels in this moment where Blaine can deny him, albeit for perfectly understandable reasons.  “-I know that we’re new, us is new,  _this_ is new, but... I mean, I just want it to be  _you_ , you know?  I just... it’s not like I’m ready but I don’t think that’s something that I have control over at this point so I completely understand if you aren’t ready for it but I have to ask.  I just have to because you’re... you.”  
  
Kurt waits for what feels like the longest few moments of his life, watching Blaine’s face and hoping.  
  
“Actually,”Blaine confesses, “I would be honored.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Reminder: the Transformation Counselor's name is EE-AH-NAH. Iana.

**Blaine**  
  
After spending literally an entire day with Iana, Blaine is exhausted. He's lying on his bed staring at the ceiling and trying to get a solid hold on his thoughts which, at the moment, seem bent on tearing around his head like a jaguar on speed.  
  
Two hours after meeting Iana the previous day he had sat in the headmaster's study. Dr. Togapi had filled his parents in via speakerphone of Blaine's intent to assist in Kurt's becoming. Iana had sat in the chair beside him while his mother and father asked questions, so many questions that Kurt and he had never even thought to ask.   
  
After his mothers' final “well, that  _is_  something, isn't it?” they had agreed to the arrangement, if only for the barest chance of it “spurring his own Aligerian chromosomes into action” - his father's words. Blaine felt a bit miffed about that part as Iana had been very clear that there had been very little evidence to the fact that being involved in another's becoming had ever been linked to  _causing_  one's becoming to happen, but Blaine would take it, whatever the reason.  
  
He had been focused on Kurt. On being able to be the one who helped Kurt through this process and being the one that would be there instead of some stranger.  
  
After today, though, he realizes that he still has a lot to talk to Kurt about.  
  
Iana had been nothing but patient, answering all of his questions, no matter how strange or downright perverse they seemed. She let him inspect her own wings, how they folded up and how they folded out; the topography of them and the areas that he would have to watch for when cutting Kurt's free. She had models that were molded to look and feel like the actual skin of someone who was becoming and he practiced the movements he would have to do on Kurt, simple yet specific in that he would need to remember each of the areas in turn that needed to be checked.  
  
She gave him tools for the procedure and a kit with towels and oils for Kurt's new wings. He had blushed when he noted that the kit also included many... _other_  things that would prove to be useful at the time as well.  
  
The biggest thing he had to thank Iana for, though, was her hand in his as they watched a recording of a becoming that Iana had presided over. They had needed permission from his parents for this as well so that the school could not be held liable for the content of the film. They had viewed the tape first; all two hours of it, without speaking and with Blaine's hand tightly gripping Iana's as he watched it all unfold.  
  
The Aligerian had been male but young, not more than 15. Iana was younger, too, but still just as lovely as today. He also found out how she would have fulfilled Kurt's...desires, had she been the one assisting him.   
  
So many straps.  
  
Now that he knows, he's  _seen_  what will happen he's both thrilled and terrified. He knows now the weight of what he has decided to take on and all he wants is to make it as good and perfect for Kurt as he can; make his becoming an experience he will always remember.  
  
***  
 **Kurt**  
  
Kurt's on his bed, on his stomach. Of course. This has been his default position for the past few days but right now there is literally no other way to sit and when he's standing the pressure is so great the he feels he will rip in two.  
  
He's really not enjoying this right now.  
  
He has been waived off classes until two days after his becoming which, it seems, is imminent. Now there is just the waiting.  
  
Kurt Hummel is  _not_  very good at waiting.  
  
He's used to singing, dancing, moving...making things or becoming involved. Not sitting. Not just lying around waiting for some grand event to take place. He's usually creating the grand event. Which, he supposes, he kind of is.  
  
He hears a knock at his door and breathes a sigh of relief. He's had reading material and movies to watch but mostly he's just wanted company. Specifically Blaine's company. He fervently hopes that it's him at the door.  
  
“Come in,” he calls, hoping that whoever it is won't mind his rudeness as the door opens and Blaine's smiling face peeks around it. Kurt smiles back, scooting over then relaxing into the bed and waiting for Blaine to come and join him.  
  
Blaine crosses the room, his feet bare, and climbs onto the bed next to Kurt, laying down beside him and turning his head to the right so he's looking straight into Kurt's eyes.  
  
“Hi,” Kurt whispers, nervous and giddy at the same time. So  _much_  hangs between them right now, so much they should say, could say but someone has to say it first and he's not quite sure where to start.  
  
“Hi,” Blaine whispers back as he leans over and softly presses his lips to Kurt's. It's seemingly innocent, warm lips pressed lightly against his own but Kurt can't help the whine that escapes his throat.  
  
“I'm sorry,” he cringes, “I really didn't mean to do that.”  
  
Blaine laughs low in his throat and pulls back just far enough to look back into Kurt's eyes before rubbing his nose against his boyfriend's.  
  
“It's  _fine_.”  
  
“I just...it scares me, you know? I  _have_  felt like this about you...loved you...for as long as I've really known you and I don't want you to think that this is all because of my becoming, you know?”  
  
There's pleading in Kurt's eyes as he speaks and Blaine pulls him close, his grip loose as not to disturb Kurt's back.  
  
“Shh, stop. I know that's not it. I know, don't worry, please. There's enough to worry about without that, too. I know you lo-...that you care for me, okay. No worries.” Blaine murmurs.  
  
“I  _love_  you. I do. So don't  _you_  worry about saying it, then.” Kurt bites back, noting Blaine's stutter over the word.  
  
“Okay, fine. Now that we know that you love me and I love you, let's have an awkward conversation, shall we?” says Blaine as he flips himself over to stare at the ceiling, his legs brushing Kurt's as their elbows knock before he's settled and comfortable.  
  
“More awkward than yesterday?” Kurt asks, knowing the answer.  
  
“Ohhhhhh yes, most definitely,” Blaine chuckles and Kurt can't help but relax at the sound. Blaine has already seen all there is to see and he's still here; still ready to do this so...  
  
“Ok, tell me about it.” he says, shoring himself up for all the knowledge Iana had to give.  
  
“Well,” Blaine begins, “I know what I need to do and I have all the supplies we'll need in my room.” Kurt notices a blush high on his cheeks at that and lifts an eyebrow. “And Iana and I talked about you and me and, well, what we've, you know, done together um, you know...”  
  
“Sexually.” Kurt finishes, his skin on fire as Blaine turns to look at him and he knows Blaine can see how flushed his face is. Blaine blinks and swallows, his tongue feeling much too large in his mouth as he tries to continue.  
  
“Yes, sexually. Which, you know, isn't much and we talked about that and how I'm – and she suggested that we talk about some things just to be on the same page when things...happen. So, can we do that? Talk about some things?”  
  
Kurt nods.  
  
“Um, so...uh...” Blaine stammers.  
  
“Oh, my.” Kurt drawls. “Your eloquence astounds me.”  
  
Blaine swats him, exclaiming, “Hey!  You didn’t just spend your whole day learning about the erogenous zones of Aligerians - which is pretty much every square inch of your skin during becoming, I’ll have you know - and then watching a movie where you saw one actually happen and you didn’t think it was possible for someone to orgasm  _that_  much and-”  Blaine cuts off, realizing he’s running at the mouth.  Kurt’s eyes widen, his pupils battling his irises for dominance as he takes in Blaine’s words.  
  
“How many times,” Kurt asks, voice a breath against Blaine’s face.  
  
Blaine’s cock is already aching, remembering what the boy had looked like, picturing what Kurt would  _feel_  like against him, stretched and wanting.  Blaine leans over, burying his face in Kurt’s shoulder, and groans.  “How am I going to talk about this with you right now,” comes his muffled plea, “I can’t even make it through the very beginning...”  
  
“So...how about we take care of  _that_  first...or...during?” purrs Kurt.  Blaine’s head snaps up and Kurt snickers at the comedy of it before Blaine’s kissing him, softly, slowly, lips tightly closed, and then speaking against his lips.  
  
“What did you have in mind?” he whispers, his lips grazing Kurt’s, shooting tingling sparks down his spine.  Blaine closes his eyes and Kurt follows suit, confessing to the perceived darkness.  
  
“I want to see you come, Blaine,” he whispers against Blaine’s lips and feels rather than sees the breath Blaine takes before his shoulder starts trembling against Kurt’s.  “I want...I want to see how you touch yourself while we talk about this.  I wish I could do more, but-”  
  
Blaine growls against his lips and then lays back, getting comfortable before dragging his fingertips down his chest.  Kurt winces as he rearranges his body, angling slightly back so some of his weight is on his side and watches, transfixed as Blaine’s fingers stop at the hem of his shirt.  
  
“Why are you stopping?” Kurt hisses, mindful of the need building in his own body; his cock heavy against his hip bone, pressing into the mattress.  
  
“Patience,” Blaine replies, his smile never faltering, “I just wanted to know if you wanted me to...take this off?”  
  
“Oh god, please yes,” comes Kurt’s breathy reply and Blaine’s sitting up, pulling at his shirt until it’s lost somewhere on the floor and Kurt’s left hand is teasing its way down his chest, tugging gently on the hair there and then sliding down his torso, pulling a groan from both boys.  
  
“ _Gorgeous_ ,” Kurt mutters, as he settles his hand at the waistband of Blaine’s jeans.  “Honestly, I don’t know  _how_  you were single all I know is that  _I_  get to have you and that is all that matters.”  
  
Blaine clicks his tongue and laughs. “Stop it!  I was just waiting for the right pers- _onnnn_.”   
  
Kurt’s hand has broken the boundaries and is slowly stoking the obvious bulge in Blaine’s jeans.  He can’t believe how physically warm Blaine’s cock is through the thick material and he wonders at how hot it would be in his...  
  
“I asked  _how many_?” he repeats, stroking lightly, lightly along the rigid surface of his boyfriend’s dick.  
  
“Um, in the two hours-oh my  _god_ -” Blaine bites his lip, Kurt’s hand applying more pressure to the base of his cock and pulling his hand harshly up the side, “-ok, uh _hhh_ m, I think it was- _fuck, Kurt I just_ \- fifteen.  Something li- _iiii_ -ke that.  Kurt, jesus, please can I-”  
  
 _“FifTEEN?_ ” Kurt shrills as he watches Blaine reach down to unbutton his pants, making short work of the zipper and then tugging both them and his boxers down to his thighs, causing his newly-freed erection to slap back against his abdomen before sitting up to pull the offending clothing completely off, dropping it all to the floor.  
  
Kurt stares and Blaine begins to fidget under his scrutiny, taking in a breath to speak just as Kurt’s hand coils loosely around his cock and begins to slide lightly, teasingly.  
  
“ _God, I love your hands on me,_ ” he breathes as Kurt’s fingertips trace their way up and over the head, dragging through and slicking down what’s there, making every touch hyper-focused.  
  
“And I love touching you,” Kurt replies, eyes wide.  “So...tell me now,” he pauses and Blaine groans, his hips grinding up into Kurt’s hand, needing more.  “What is it that you wanted to ask me?”  
  
Kurt begins to move his hand again; deliberately smooth and quick, catching Blaine off guard and making him buck up and bite off a yelp.  
  
“I...” Blaine begins, but Kurt’s swiping at the head of his cock and tracing it down the ridge below that and  _fuck_  he cannot brain right now.  He bites his lip and arches back in the mattress, his forehead damp, tiny sounds escaping from his throat as his boyfriend -  _oh my god, I have a boyfriend and he is jerking me off right now fuck I have a beautiful, sexy boy in bed with me oh god_  - never waivers in his task, his eyes fixed on Blaine.  Blaine opens his eyes and sees Kurt, his gaze unwavering, and words spill out of his mouth.  
  
“When...when it happens you’ll just want me to... _oh Kurt.  KurtKurtKurtfeelssogood..._ you’ll literally beg me to fuck you and I... _like that, oh fuck, like that...Kurt!_ ”    
  
Kurt stops, reaching his hand to the base of Blaine’s cock and squeezing, knowing he’s terrible but reveling in it anyway.  It’s sexy, yes, watching his boyfriend come loose at the seams in front of him but even more so it is powerful, this force, and he’s heady with the feeling of unbridled control he has over the pleasure he can give Blaine.   _Only me_ , he thinks as Blaine whimpers his protests and writhes against Kurt’s wrist.  
  
 _“Shh, shh,”_  he coos, “Tell me more and I’ll let you, baby.”  _Oh my god, I just said baby_ , Kurt thinks, and he doesn’t even know where that came from but  _fuck_  did it go straight to his groin.  
  
Blaine nods and Kurt lets go, biting his lip and waiting for Blaine to take over as he reaches down to push his sweatpants down and take his own cock into his hand.  
  
He begins to fist himself, a groan tearing out into the silence between them and Blaine shudders, taking his own dick in hand before speaking.  
  
“You’re going to want me to fuck you, and...and I need to... _fuck you are so hot like that_...I need to know how you want me.  So there’s no mistakes...do you...do you want me inside you or...”  Blaine groans, his orgasm biting and clawing its way into his balls and sitting right on the edge.   “...or are you... _socloseKurtfucksoCLOSE_...are you going to want to fuck...to fuck me?”  
  
Kurt keens, his orgasm ripped from his toes as he pulses hot and quick into his hand and Blaine shudders out onto his stomach with a cry of “ _Kurt!”_ and the words, “ _You inside ME, Blaine.  You inside me.”_  in his ears.  
  
Blaine shakes and stills, his muscles twitching and his brain foggy while his body lulls itself down into the sweet, soft film that is post-orgasm stillness.   He forces his eyes open and looks to Kurt where his boy is breathing quickly, his chest still rising and falling and his whole body still quaking with release.  
  
 _The becoming must be so close,_  he thinks and he reaches out to smooth his hands over Kurt’s shuddering form, soothing and stilling him.  
  
Kurt’s eyes blink open and Blaine’s heart clenches in his chest, his eyes taking in every inch of Kurt’s skin as he speaks.  
  
“Yes, I can do that.  I can do that.”


	6. Chapter 6

The faucet in the bathroom sink is dripping.  It’s a slow drip, once every minute or so but it is there.  
  
Kurt’s sleeping form crowds around him, his long limbs spread out over the mattress, head still turned in Blaine’s direction as gentle puffs of sleep-heavy breaths warm the sheets between them.  
  
They had spoken for hours, soft whispers meeting and mingling in the hushed comfort of Kurt’s room before his eyelids had gotten heavy and Blaine had pushed the hair back from his forehead and kissed each of Kurt’s eyelids murmuring for him to “get some sleep already”.  Blaine had quietly snuck from the room and retrieved the bag Iana had given him, his head humming the mantra “better safe than sorry”, before climbing back into Kurt’s bed and falling instantly to sleep.  
  
Now, though, something has woken him and his ears search the room to determine what it is.  His eyes flicker open and glance over at the bedside stand, catching Kurt’s alarm clock mid-minute change from 2:34 to 2:35am.  
  
Hmm, that never happens, he thinks before regaining his focus. And then...  
  
It’s a gentle sound, a soft purring noise that never would have woken Blaine; almost like a seamstress tearing silk.  A slippery, soft pop and then Blaine knows what woke him as Kurt’s still sleeping form groans loud and quick, his hips bucking, before falling still again.  
  
Blaine nods to himself, remembering the sound from the video with Iana, his hands drawing up to rub over his face as he mentally prepares for what is to come.  His heart threatens to take over, beating faster the more he thinks.  He forces his legs to move silently from the bed, capturing his nerves and harnessing their energy.  He’s going to need it.  
  
“Are you scared?” Blaine asked.  
  
“Not if I’m with you.” Kurt replied.  
  
He swiftly crosses the room, his feet complaining as he reaches the cold tiles of the bathroom.  He flicks on the low light, careful to mostly close the door first. He pads to the gigantic bathtub, gently easing first the hot then the cold water on, quietly filling the bathtub before turning back to unpack the bag from his room.    
  
“What if you want me to and it’s...what if it’s too much?”  
  
“You won’t hurt me, Blaine, I know you won’t...”  
  
He pulls first condoms then lube and places them on the bathroom counter before resignedly removing the one thing that had made him blush the most when Iana had given it to him.    
  
Silky smooth and pearly white, it was modest and Blaine’s cheeks burned with the thought that he might actually use it today.  His eyes had widened but Iana had shushed his nervous stutters and placed it in the bag, insisting that it would not hurt Kurt and that they would both actually appreciate having the plug so that Kurt (or Blaine, as the case might have been) would not have to wait more than was absolutely necessary. He still can’t quite believe that is happening, but he is glad it is with Kurt.  That Kurt had chosen him to take care of everything.  
  
“But what if, Kurt?  I could never forgive myself and I know this is all kind of sudden for us...I just want to make everything perfect.”  
  
“I...” Kurt had stuttered, turned red, “I’ve been um, practicing for a long time now, okay?  Just...don’t worry...just...take your time and it’ll all work out, Blaine.”  
  
Blaine’s cheeks flush at the memory and he hurries to turn off the taps. He tests the water with his wrist and nods to himself, happy that it is the temperature he needs. Iana had been specific in her instructions.  “Don’t pull at the skin, Blaine, it will rip and tear if you do that.  Just be gentle and knead it free. He glances at the small, sharp scissors on the countertop.  Just the edges, Blaine, when he’s through...keep the strokes quick and even and there will be no scarring.  
  
Blaine looks in the mirror and swipes once at the foggy glass, searching his own reflection for worry and sees none.  All he can focus on is Kurt.  Kurt, Kurt, Kurt.  He breathes out, conscious of his heart beat, beat, beating and lets his pajama pants whisper to the ground.  He watches himself in the mirror, trying to come to terms with the fact that he’s going to be completely naked with someone, and soon,  as he bends to retrieve the suggested uniform.  He pulls up the under armour.  “Really, these?” he had asked Iana, blushing straight to his toes as she smirked at him.  “Yes, Blaine.  They aren’t restrictive, being of the boxer/brief variety, they breathe and they’ll dry quickly if they get wet.  They’re perfect.”  
  
He studies the mirror, twisting and turning as he judges his skin; the fit.  
  
“So...did she tell you that I’ll basically be throwing myself at you?”  
  
Blaine bit his lip before reaching out to cup Kurt’s smooth cheek, his thumb tracing tiny circles into base of his jaw.  
  
“Yes but Kurt...it doesn’t have to be that way, you know?  There are no rules here. Yes, you’re going to want to touch, to be touched, to feel.  But that doesn’t mean it has to be dirty or wrong or even rushed.  It can be as...sensual and erotic as we make it.”  
  
Kurt flushed crimson at that, and cuddled closer to Blaine’s chest, lips lightly brushing Blaine’s as he spoke. “That sounds good.  Really good.”  
  
“Blaine-”  
  
Blaine startles back to the present, Kurt’s call lifting him from his reverie, and rushes into the bedroom.  Kurt is leaning up, his arms and legs trembling as his swollen back twists and ripples.  The thick pockets on the backs of his thighs constrict his movements and he’s tangled in the sheets.  
  
“Hey,” he soothes, careful not to touch Kurt yet, “Calm down, I’m here, I’m going to...I’m going to touch you now, just to pick you up.  Be ready for it, okay?  I...I think it’s time now.”  
  
Kurt whimpers in return, his face buried in the pillowcase, back arched, perforations littering his wasted skin.  Blaine reaches out his fingers, the tips trembling slightly, and brushes Kurt’s arm.  
  
The sound that comes from Kurt’s lips is unreal.  Categorization is impossible but Blaine knows it’s good because Kurt’s hand has reached out and is gripping blindly at his bicep, kneading and shaking as his body arches toward the touch.  Again comes that gentle ripping sound while rivulets of liquid slide down Kurt’s arms and onto the bed.  
  
Blaine watches the pink-tinged liquid track down his fingers and jolts to awareness.  
  
Time.  It’s really time.  
  
He reaches out then, gathering Kurt up in his arms and is vaguely aware of Kurt’s spasms against him, his stomach suddenly wet, Kurt barely cutting out, “Too much, so much, Blaine, oh god-” before spasming yet again and the wetness warming anew.  
  
Just my arms around him Blaine has time to think before his concentration focuses and he maneuvers them through the open bathroom door and into the dimly lit space, placing Kurt gently in the prepared bath.    
  
Pajama pants he registers, leaning over the bath’s edge to gently yet firmly pull at the soaked garment.  The friction seems to get to Kurt and he rolls onto his side, away from Blaine, trying to be free of the blistering wantwantwant burning his veins, Blaine knows, but this must happen if all is to go as smoothly as possible.    
  
“Kurt, baby?” Blaine breathes, barely speaking.  “I...we need to take these off.  Once they’re off everything will be - easier.”  
  
Some mumbled apologies, a few groans and words of soft encouragement from Blaine and the pants are puddled in the corner, exiled for the night.  
  
Blaine takes a moment and just sees.  
  
Kurt is on his hands and knees, resting the bulk of his weight on his forearms.  The steam from the tub has made his skin soft and ruddy - where there is any to be seen at all.  In his sleep it has thinned - fissures from his movements growing wider with each arch of his back; every pull of his arm.  Between the tenuous connections each soft plate of skin has a thick, pinkish substance now flowing freely out, mottling the surface of the bathwater.    
  
His movements are catlike, distinct; his body intuitively seeking relief from its self-created bounds.  Blaine senses are inundated with Kurt’s whimpers, his smell, the sight of his cock hanging heavy and full again.  Blaine feels his body reacting to the becoming, knows he needs to be with Kurt, beside him.  Within him.  
  
Blaine glances down at the mess on his stomach, cheeks burning, and reaches for a washcloth, first running it under water and then wiping it through the first round of Kurt’s apexes.  He knows that after the next few Kurt’s body will simply feel the sensation of orgasm with nothing left to give, but for now there is still the physical reminder of Kurt’s pleasure, reminding Blaine of his task here; one he is honored to accept.  
  
He turns back to Kurt and unceremoniously drops the pretense of the underwear.  If he’s being honest, he won’t ever need them.  
  
***  
  
“Blaine, Blaine Blaine...touchmetouchmetouchmetouchme...oh god, I can’t- I can’t take this I need you.  I needIneedIneedIneed...”  
  
***  
  
Blaine climbs into the bath beside Kurt, quietly thanking their predecessors for anticipating their needs, and begins to run his hands over Kurt’s back.  
  
***  
  
Kurt rocks back into the touch - Blaine’s touch, he tells himself - and moans, his hips bucking, spilling out into the water and he can’t be embarrassed, he can’t, because Blaine’s touch is like white heat sending sparks of blatant lust straight to his core. He feels it everywhere even though Blaine’s fingers are soothing, kneading at his shoulder blades, the place where the back of his ribs would be, his thighs.  He groans and moves into it, his orgasm ripping through him again as he lifts his head and wails out into the sweltering bathroom air. Blaine rubs and soothes, his hands gathering the sticky-sweet liquid there and gently, gently working at the skin on his back.    
  
Blaine stops his hands and gasps as Kurt's coming down, down, the intense heat tamped for a moment.  He tries to move and feels it, his back bursting open, wetness running in sheets into the tub as Blaine flicks the drains below them open.  His thighs are tight, tight until Blaine’s hands - Are they shaking? - are on him again, softly push-pulling over the backs of his legs until the pressure is too great and he’s shivering, arching again as the thin membranes there burst, too, and suddenly he can move again and nothing is tight..nothing at all.  
  
There is no more maddening tug and pull, no more pressure on his legs, his back, the curve of his ass.  He wants to move around and roll over, wants to feel the relief from all sides.  
  
Mostly he wants Blaine to take away the last ache he has.  The burn of wantwantwantTAKEfuckown that’s pulsing in his veins.    
  
This thought pushes its way to the forefront of his mind and he’s moaning, rutting into the air at the thought of what Blaine can do to him now that he’s free. He’s found his voice and is begging, chanting out into the stillness his desires as Blaine moves to complete this and then make him whole.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This was orginally written in April of 2012.

Blaine can’t move. Can’t breathe. He’s afraid to touch them, blinded by their beauty, frozen to the spot. Nothing had prepared him for how he’d feel when Kurt’s wings were actually in front of him. Sticky wet still, yes, but right there and begging to be touched. He had felt like this when he first came to Dalton but had tamped it down, knowing the consequences would be dire to both himself and the winged. He, expelled; the winged, abused.

 

 

But this.

All thoughts of the becoming had left him - his responsibilities, the scissors next to him, the towels beyond. His eyes were trained on the enchanting beauty before him and nothing else matters until-

“Blaine, I-” Kurt begins, twisting his shoulders around to look Blaine in the eyes, “I just really need you. I know there’s more to be done but god this is frustrating. It’s like I can feel you under my skin, inside me already but...it aches, Blaine. Please help me.”

It’s then that the sheen catches Kurt’s eye - Blaine sees it, the flick of his irises to where Kurt can just see the damp waves cascading down his own back- and he hears his sharp breath as he sees what Blaine has already become enamored of.

“They-!”

“Yes.” He answers, knowing full well what Kurt is seeing, why he is now blushing straight down to his toes.

“But I don’t des-”

“Yes. Stop. You do. You are, without a doubt, one of the kindest, gentlest, most pure people I have ever met, Kurt. It had to show somehow.” Blaine breathes in and takes one more glance, the starling, dazzling waterfall of white down Kurt’s back.

He has a quiet moment to be thankful for this honor again before reaching for the scissors and dragging one hand soothingly down Kurt’s spine. 

Kurt reacts immediately, hanging his head down, his body convulsing as he spills yet again onto the damp porcelain, his cries echoing through the humid air. Blane bites his lip and clamps down on the base of his own cock, forcing himself to focus on the task at hand. 

He draws his hand back up, wiping away at the remnants of the liquid that had been protecting Kurt’s growing wings for weeks, the serum that gave each and every one the fullness and strength Blaine can now see, even in their current state. He moves his hands over and over, methodically scraping the thickened substance from the skin on Kurt’s arms and shoulders, the backs of his thighs and the gentle curve of his ass. He tries to ignore the sway of Kurt’s hips as he ruts back against Blaine’s hands; the quiet litany of need falling from his mouth as Blaine completes his first task.

The skin where the feathers had been covering Kurt is soft and baby-pink. Iana had told him this - that whatever metamorphosis Kurt had gone through would leave him solid and whole again, despite his weeks of discomfort. Sliding his fingers over such smooth skin is a revelation and Blaine revels in it, his hands gliding under Kurt’s wings to find all of the jagged edges that becoming had left behind. He follows each pass with the small, sharp scissors, clipping each spot as close to the skin as possible and then collecting the soft lotion-like liquid left on his skin to smooth and soothe each spot. 

When each edge and rip has been attended - from the tops of Kurt’s shoulders to the backs of his knees - Blaine focuses his eyes on the last spot that needs attention - the place where each wing emerges from Kurt’s back. After this it will be just feathers and water and touching, exploring, but Blaine knows from his training that this place will be the most sensitive and the hardest to touch. That the attraction between them will tense and snap at these touches if his focus is anything less than perfect. 

Each wing has an area about six inches long that protrudes from Kurt’s back, right at the apex of his shoulderblades. He’s curled in a tight ball at the moment, his body overwhelmed from all of Blaine’s touches and snips, and Blaine knows he’s moments from bursting; from just forcing Blaine to bend to his will and that’s what spurs Blaine to get this done. 

Taking a breath, he reaches out and smoothes his fingers around the base of each wing.

***

Kurt jolts the moment Blaine’s fingers tighten. Every single neuron in his body is screaming at him to get up, push Blaine back into the (admittedly disgusting) tub, and straddle him until he is forced to fix it. Fix it, fix t, fix it. His shoulders ach from being on his hands and knees for so long and his body won’t stop shaking and now-

“Blaine...Blaine, I ca-I can’t take it. It’s too much. It’s-it’s so much, Blane I just need it, god, please fuck me already-”

He cringes at the words falling out of his mouth while the muscles in his lower abdomen expand and contract, his body mimicking an orgasm even though it has nothing left to give. He feels electric and raw - his skin too hot and his mind racing while Blaine murmurs words of patience into his ear, the quiet snick of the scissors seeming to boom out in the silent room.

He knows Blaine is finished when he hears the scissors returning to the counter with a small ting, and then he’s up and twisting round, pulling Blaine with him and sliding his hands down low, low, cupping Blaine’s balls and licking into his mouth as Blaine mewls into his own, shocked into submission by Kurt’s sudden movement. He is bold, gripping Blaine’s cock with eager hands, Blaine fucking up into his grasp and pulling his mouth off Kurt’s to admonish him, his hands coming down to stop Kurt's.

“K-Kurt, wait, I-” he whines, unable to stop the quick jerk of his hips, the quickening of his pulse as he ratchets closer and closer, clawing at Kurt’s fingertips.

“No,”Kurt growls, ignoring the shaking in his legs, the wet, as-yet-unwashed feathers sticking to his back, his thighs, as he focuses solely on Blaine’s pleasure in this moment and cocks an eyebrow before continuing. “It’s okay, Blaine. Let me...it won’t be the last time tonight, trust me - you’re not getting off that easily.”

Blaine huffs out a laugh and is gritting out his pleasure; muttered words as his hands scrabble behind Kurt to pull the enormous curtain closed and turn on the shower head before leaning into Kurt’s chest, letting the hot water take over. Kurt shudders as it hits his feathers, the sensation new and not entirely unwelcome. He feels the last vestiges of whatever was there slipping away, down his legs and out the drains and then Blaine is running his fingers down his wings and he’s shivering, leaning down to capture Blaine’s mouth as Blaine shouts his release, coming between them, his come rinsing away with everything else.

Blaine grips him tightly as they sink to the floor, Kurt’s wings pooling around him like a mantle. They let the water run, each man taking a moment to catch his breath.

“Well,” Kurt starts just as Blaine begins with, “That was-”

They both laugh affectionately, Kurt’s body still consumed with the need to be taken, completed. He tries to ignore it, waiting for Blaine to show signs of being ready, to take the reins. 

He doesn’t need to wait long.

Moments later Blane is up, pushing Kurt’s shoulder gently when he tries to stand, his eyes scolding as he steps out of the tub. He’s gathering towels, taking one and hastily rubbing himself down before glancing up at Kurt to ascertain his preparedness.

Kurt knows he’s gawking, his eyes glued to Blaine’s trim waist, the sparse hair on his chest and torso, and his perfect cock, half-hard again already, the head flushed red. Inviting.

And then Blaine’s blushing, lifting a hand to tangle in the hair at the back of his neck and Kurt is almost bowled over by the love he feels in this moment, the appreciation for what Blaine has given him. 

His own pace.

His own choices.

His own limits.

Blaine moves forward then, two towels ready for his sopping wings as Kurt rises to meet him.

***

Some time later they are wrapped together on Kurt’s bed, hips gently rocking as Kurt’s fingers map each contour of Blaine’s body and Blaine’s hands run up and over the arch of Kurt’s wings. 

Each touch of Blaine’s fingers through his feathers gives Kurt pause as he whimpers against Blaine’s chest and Blaine marvels at both Kurt’s reaction and the softness surrounding his fingers.

Eventually, though, their need outweighs the newness of discovery and Blaine finds himself reaching for the lube he brought from the bathroom, slicking his fingers and settling Kurt onto the bed, his stomach pressed softly into the sheets.

Blaine moves to spread Kurt's legs, his breath coming in pants as he spreads his ass wide to see and touch. Blaine can’t help himself, really, when he leans in to breath over Kurt’s opening and then lick lightly, teasingly as his fingers play at the rim and Kurt groans into the mattress.

“Ohhhhhh my goddddd,” comes his voice from the sheets, “Just - don’t stop that, okay? So good, Blaine...”

Blaine licks again in earnest, lapping gently and evenly as his fingers massage and push at Kurt’s tight opening. He’s humming low in his throat as Kurt whimpers into the sheets and then his tongue is breaching Kurt’s hole and fucking in slowly, surely, his fingers nudging and soothing as he goes.

Kurt’s back goes rigid and he’s thrusting his ass into Blaine’s face as his wings jump up and shudder, another orgasm ripping through his body as Blaine tongues him through it, pulling back to push in his finger to the hilt.

Kurt lifts up his head and gasps, begging for more, for Blaine, but Blaine knows it would be too much and so he pauses, rotating his finger inside of Kurt, stretching, opening, bending the tight muscle to his will as Kurt begs above him.

“Shh, shhh...” he soothes, bringing his face away from Kurt’s ass long enough to pull out his finger and add another, “It’s okay, baby, I can’t wait to feel you...so tight, so hot, Kurt, god.”

Something like a sob comes from Kurt’s lips and he’s burying his head in the sheets again, teeth ripping and holding as he fights for self-control.

Blaine works him through well, though, and Kurt is open and pliant beneath him in minutes, his asshole thoroughly worshiped and tongued, lubed and ready as Blaine stands up to clean up his mouth and get a condom.

Kurt protests,whining out his displeasure, as Blaine rushes to the bathroom.

“Blaaaine,” he complains, his body betraying him, fucking into the sheets, “It’s fine, you don’t neeeed it. Just...come back, okay? I know we’re safe.”

Blaine looks up from the sink and stares into Kurt’s eyes through the mirror. Yes, they are fogged with lust but there is truth there, and trust. He turns to look at Kurt, who has pushed himself up onto his knees in the middle of the bed, hands in his lap, his white wings stark against the black sheets.

He is the most beautiful thing Blaine has ever experienced.

Blaine drops the condom to the floor and makes for the bed, kneeling on the edge and cupping Kurt’s face in his hands, kissing him deeply. 

When he pulls back Kurt is shaking again, but then again, so is he.

“I-” Kurt begins, his face reddening as he casts his eyes down, “I-”

“Shh, just tell me,” Blaine soothes, daring to run his fingers through one of Kurt’s wings and earning a groan of pleasure straight from his lover’s throat.

“I want to ride you.” Kurt proclaims, biting his lip and looking up at Blaine expectantly.

Blaine slumps forward, his forehead bumping with Kurt’s and staying there.

“Holy shit Kurt, you can’t just...are you sure I won’t hurt you?”

“No,” Kurt whispers, their lips almost touching, hot breath mixing with hot breath, “I’ll control it this way and you...you just let me enjoy the ride.”

Blaine laughs out loud into the bedroom, grateful that he’s already come because just Kurt’s words have made him hard again.

“Lay down on the bed.” Kurt commands.

Blaine grins at him and grabs Kurt’s pillows, arranging them on the headboard and leaning back, his cock laying thick and heavy against his abdomen, the slick-sheen moisture there spreading, marking.

“God, I want to taste your cock,” Kurt whispers and Blaine’s eyes widen, Kurt’s words a shock even at this stage in the game.

Kurt tears his eyes away from it, searching Blaine’s face for his reaction and grinning, “I know, it doesn’t sound like me, but...holy shit but do you look fucking delicious. So gay. So, so gay.”

Blaine laughs then, the seriousness of the moment not lost but completely put into perspective at Kurt’s words. Sex doesn't have to be so dramatic. Sex can be playful and fun and...well, sexy.

“Enough talking, more riding,” he teases and Kurt’s eyes are worth the momentary whoosh of fear in his stomach that his words are too much, their pupils growing impossibly larger, his lips twisting into a seductive smirk.

“I thought it was me who was supposed to be im-.” he chides, climbing onto the bed and over Blaine while both spreading his ass open with one hand and taking Blaine’s rigid cock into the other, rubbing it teasingly over his stretched hole, “-patient.” He finishes, rocking down onto Blaine slowly, just enough for his cockhead to breach the rim.

“Ohhh,” Kurt whispers as he feels his muscles tighten, fighting the intrusion. Fear washes over him then. What if I can’t do this? What if? his brain supplies as he quietly starts freaking out. But then Blaine’s fingers curl softly into his feathers, stroking, pulling, coaxing invisible strings of desire out and up, up through his veins and down to his ass, his muscles, relaxing, controlling.

It’s a wonder he doesn’t just push himself down right then. 

He bites his lip instead and pushes gently, slowly, the stretch just this side of too much, too painful and then his muscles yield, conforming to the ridges of Blaine’s cock.

Blaine watches it all from his place on the bed, his mouth slack, his brain forcing his eyes to stay open to see Kurt sink down on his cock, inch after tight inch. Before long Blaine is searching Kurt’s eyes with his own, Kurt seated, fully sheathed, in his lap, his hands gripping Blaine’s ribs for support as Blaine’s own hands grip the sheets with balled fists while he breathes shallowly through his nose.

Kurt is whining, barely moving as he jerks his hips back just once and reseats, his wings lifted high, their white feathers glistening and fluttering in the low light.

“God, Kurt,” Blaine grits out, his voice low, abused. “You took it all. All of me- fuck. You’re amazing...you feel amazing. So tight, Kurt I-”

He can’t finish because Kurt has jerked his hips back again, slipping his cock almost all the way out just to grind himself quickly back down as Blaine pants out his pleasure, choked off words of affirmation and love while Kurt’s lost, the extreme stretch of Blaine’s cock inside him, the power of knowing he did this, he took all of Blaine, that he’s taking Blaine closer and closer and he can’t - he can’t-

His wings come crashing down around them, shrouding them in a cave of feathers and heat as Kurt rides harder, his hips snapping up quick and dirty, Blaine fingers seeking, tugging at the feathers above them and Kurt snaps, his muscles contracting around Blaine and squeezing as he slumps onto Blaine’s chest, lungs heaving and knees shaking.

“Finish fucking my ass, Blaine, c’mon baby,” he pleads, chin up, eyes owlishly monitoring Blaine’s face as he groans and holds tight, pistoning his hips up into Kurt’s sensitive flesh.

“Kurt- Kurt-” he chants and comes, shooting deep into Kurt’s body, shaking out into his release as Kurt hums above him, his wings pulling up and off of them both.

***

“I love you,” he whispers into Kurt’s hair as they settle in a bit later, the lights all off, each man wiped clean, Kurt’s long wings spread out over the bedspread.

That night, Blaine dreams of flying.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **NEW CHAPTER** December 2013

When Kurt wakes the next morning he finds them on their stomachs, his left leg wrapped around Blaine, one wing trapped under himself and the other draped lazily over Blaine’s back.  He reaches up with his left hand to trace the feathers, their snow-white down taking his breath and making him feel like crying.  The touch doesn’t hurt; it’s the idea that some cosmic force in the universe decided that he is worth this, the pure beauty of white wings.

He also realizes it will make him even more of a target.

He shakes the thought out of his head as he lets his body wake up, taking stock of Blaine and his gentle breathing beside him.  He is asleep, his slumber occasionally punctuated with soft sounds, little mewls and jerks that Kurt hasn’t noticed before.  On the third occurrence, Kurt decides to investigate Blaine further, his mind suddenly worried that he had somehow hurt his boyfriend in the night.

He looks at Blaine’s face first, the lashes fanned across his cheek, lips closed tight and irises moving under satin-smooth eyelids.  Nothing seems amiss so he moves on, checking for scratches along Blaine’s forearms where he’s gripping his pillow and finding nothing again.

Its when he reaches Blaine’s back that things get interesting.

At first Kurt thinks that he’s scratched Blaine’s back somehow, purple welts, long and thin, criss-crossing his skin.

 _Was it when we-?_  Kurt blushes in realization, Blaine had been on his back the entire time.

He sits up, ready to explore some more, when Blaine makes a soft hiss of pain and moves slightly in his sleep.  Kurt watches, face a mask of realization, as one of the welts seems to grow and fill, the affected area of skin doubling immediately.  Kurt is awestruck.  It had taken _weeks_ for Kurt’s skin to do this very same thing, but it seems that Blaine is on the fast-track, his body in overdrive for...becoming.

Kurt bites his lip in wonder and his mind begins to race. _Does it always happen like this?  When you help someone become, you yourself become?_   He thinks back to class and his face falls remembering that no, that’s not how it works at all.  You either do or you don’t and it seems that Blaine is definitely going to have wings, beautiful, glorious, dangerous wings just like Kurt.

His family will be so proud.

Kurt pauses at that, and hopes that Blaine’s relatives treat him like Kurt himself had been treated by his own father - with respect and protection.

He takes in his own wings again, flexing them open and testing how far he can spread them.  Ne notices with pride the _length_  of his wings, knowing that very few sets ever go beyond the bottom on one’s buttocks with him own stopping just at the backs of his knees.  He realizes with a grin that he will have to re-learn to sit without hurting himself.  

He can’t bring himself to care.

Blaine groans and Kurt watches again, the muscles on Blaine’s back constricting, the welts doubling again and now almost half of his back is obscured.

Kurt realizes if he continues at this rate his time of becoming will be less than two days.

It’s a thought that’s both unsettling and enthralling.  

On the one hand it means that Blaine will not be able to care for Kurt with aftercare like he was going to.  Kurt will have to do that himself, and satisfy his own <i> thoroughly insatiable and mind blowing at the moment </i> need to have release, to come and fuck and be claimed again and again.  He is going to have to facilitate this.

On the other, Blaine is going to _become_ and Kurt will be there and they would be together and experience the high at the same time and-

Kurt suddenly shivered with self-doubt.  What if-

What if Blaine wanted someone else to be there for him?  What if-

No, impossible.  They will just need to discuss it.  As soon as Blaine wakes....if Kurt can just be patient.  He looks to Blaine’s sleeping form and tries to have patience.  Tries to hold himself together but...

He shakes Blaine’s shoulder.

***

He feels his back, like it’s splitting in two, before he feels Kurt shaking him.  He wants to turn over but _damn_ does his back hurt.

He decides not to move and instead groans.

“Good morning,” he rumbles as he opens his eyes.  He tries to sit up and stops, his back muslces like boulders holding him down.  “What-”

“You’re becoming,” Kurt says, eyes dark but body held in check just beside Blaine.  “I woke up and you were making noises, I-”

Blaine feels his back ripple and groans in pain.

“Yes, just like that,” Kurt continues, “and it’s so _fast_ , Blaine.  I mean, if this keeps going like this we’ll see your wings in something like two days.”

Kurt draws his fingers down Blaine’s cheek and Blaine knows his face is registering shock.

_Two days?  How can I even be ready in two days?  Will Kurt want to-_

“Do you,” Kurt begins, but blushes dark even though, since he sat up, Blaine can see the deep red of his cock, heavy and full between his legs.  “I mean, you’re going to have to think about who you want to-”

“You,” Blaine gasps, watching Kurt begin to stroke himself. “Of course you, didn’t you hear me last night?”

Kurt stills on his knees, wings open wide behind him, cock bouncing a bit from his shaking legs.

“What did you say?”

Blaine elbows his way up, shimmying and swinging his legs a bit off the bed until he’s kneeling next to it, stretching his back far too much but ignoring the pain, and looks up at Kurt.

“I said I love you,” he intones, locking eyes with Kurt and holding.  “I do.  I know it hasn’t been that long but I do.  I don’t care if you say it back, but I know it’s true for me.  I know I love you and want to take care of you and be with you as long as you’ll let me...which is pretty much the cheesiest thing out of a dumb rom-com that I could ever say, wow.”

He cringes a bit, but Kurt just slides his knees across the bed and bends, wings engulfing them again, his lips connecting with Blaine’s.  He seeks entrace to Blaine’s mouth and Blaine grants it, moaning against Kurt’s confident strokes.  He can feel how much Kurt _wants_  - it’s in the air around them and every touch of Kurt’s fingertips.

He breaks the kiss.

“Let me taste your cock,” he says, hoping not to sound the fool.  “I want to help you somehow and I think this’ll work.”

Kurt tosses his head back and makes some sound Blaine can’t even fathom and pulls at the tips of his wings before looking back at Blaine.  Blaine can see it stamped all over his face: the war between what his body needs and what his mind knows of Blaine’s condition.

“I-” Kurt begins, rubbing his hands roughly down his own thighs.  “I can’t ask you to-”

“You didn’t ask me,” Blaine reminds him, reaching out with his arms to tug at Kurt’s bent knees.  “I requested and I would really, really appreciate it if you would let me.  God knows what I’ll be asking of _you_ in a couple days.”

Kurt lets go, then, and the overwhelming _need_ flows over Blaine in intense waves.  Kurt crawls the rest of the way to Blaine and puts his cock in Blaine’s face.

“Suck,” he demands, slipping his fingers into Blaine’s hair.  “I need it, fuck, _thank you_ , Blaine.”

Blaine takes a moment to grin - the blushing Kurt he knows long-gone at the moment - and takes  the whole of Kurt’s length in his mouth.

He cant move much, the pain in his back having increased tenfold in the short span of their conversation, but Kurt takes over, anyway.

Kurt swivels his hips, entering Blaine’s mouth at his own pace as Blaine takes deep breaths through his noce to keep up.  He licks and sucks, laughing when Kurt gets too overzealous and the head of his dick spears Blaine’s chin.  Kurt doesn’t even pause, just cuts out a laugh that molds itself into a groan when Blaine takes him back in, fighting hard to take him deep and into his throat.  He gets closer and closer to this personal goal when Kurt speeds up, gripping Blaine’s hair hard.

“I...I-” Kurt gasps, and Blaine focuses his efforts with sucking lips and gripping hand, before pulling back to let Kurt come on his face.

Kurt jerks and fails to breath, which would make Blaine nervous if he didn’t look so broken open with pleasure.

“So fucking hot, Kurt,” Blaine murmurs, come on his cheek and nose.  “But, um…”

Kurt shakes and giggles.

“Let me-” he replies, trying to move and tripping himself, “-just...okay, legs.  Yes.  Let me get you something.”

Blaine waits as Kurt gets a hand towel from the basket of supplies.  IT’s soft and perfect on his face and, with no distraction, he can feel the weight of his becoming racing down his spine and across the back of his ribcage.

“WHy is it happening this way?” he grits out, gripping the edge of the bed with white knuckles.  “It...it really hurts, Kurt.  I mean, I know it hurts in general, but oh my-”

Blaine doesn’t finish, he just closes his eyes and shudders.  It’s like feeling pain actually becoming tangible in his very _bones_.

“I don’t know,” Kurt replies, picking up some clothing.  “But we’re going to find out.”

 


	9. Chapter 9

“I mean, it’s never happened.”

Blaine’s father just stares at Iana and Dr. Togapi.

“This simply cannot be true,” Dr. Anderson argues.  “It’s not as if either of you have the entirity of Alegerian history memorized-”

Kurt resists the urge to kick the man.

They’ve been in the meeting over an hour now, and all Kurt can think about is getting back to Blaine.  Both to check on him and to assuage the hormones coursing through his own body that are screaming for release.  He can understand why Iana had told him he would need 3-4 days to recuperate, and he’s only on day 2.

Yesterday had been a nightmare of obtaining permissions and contacting Iana, Blaine’s parents, and then, historians.  Iana had come and spent two hours with Kurt, instructing him as she had instructed Blaine...then taken twenty minutes with Blaine to assess and console him as he sweated out a fever and writhed on the bed Kurt had become in.  An hour more brought terrible gutteral groans from his mouth and tears, too, as his body charged through the stage of becoming in hours instead of weeks, and Kurt could do nothing but hold him lightly and bathe him gently with a sponge.

Blaine, for his part, had tried to help Kurt as well.  When he had woken in the dead of night to Kurt twitching on the bed, trying to ride his own hand, he had taken one of the three pills Iana had left and gingerly brought himself to his knees, angling his body so that he could crouch over Kurt and hold the headboard.  Kurt had managed to take Blaine into his own mouth and entice him to full hardness as the medication took hold, and then had arranged himself under Blaine in such a way that he was able to impale himself on Blaine’s cock again and again, bringing both himself and Blaine off with keening moans.

Kurt _aches_ with need, but he doesn’t want anyone in this room, that’s for sure, so he just listens and bites his tongue as both sides argue.

“Actually,” Iana answers, turning an icy glare on Blaine’s father, “I earned my doctorate early in Alegerian History - yay home schooling! - and Dr. Togapi here is a consultant to the ANHM.  Apparently you didn’t read the pampthlet too well.”

Blaine mother smiles, then, and Kurt can at last see a light at the end of the tunnel.

“We’ll allow it, even though no one knows how or why it’s happening this way,” she says then, putting a hand to her husband’s knee when he opens his mouth to object.  “Kurt may not have the training but I’ve talked with my son enough to know that he cares deeply for Kurt and that he’s as scared as we are and this is happening to _him_.  His needs should be considered before all else here.”

Dr. Anderson sways a bit and scowls but remains silent.

“Kurt, honey?”

Kurt stands, fingers twining in the feathers behind his back.

“Can you tell Blaine that we approve his choice and that you will be the only one to see him until after the becoming?  I would go, but I think-”  She breaks off, glancing at Iana, who nods minutely, “-I think he just wants you right now, considering his condition.”

Kurt nods, too, and makes for the door.

“Kurt?” Blaine’s mother says, and he turns, eyebrow raised.

“Thank you for loving my son.”

He beams, then, and rushes to get to Blaine.

***

The seams burst.

A quiet, serrated  sound that seems to come from Blaine’s _bones_.

 

He has a moment to wonder where Kurt is, but the intense thrill of _becoming_ courses through him and he can’t think at all...not about anything but the irrepressible _need_ to be touched; to be held and taken _over._

His body is electric, and he feels quite unlike himself.  Like he could growl or beg  - two things he’s never really thought about doing before.  He can feel it working out of him from his core; his body gearing up and pushing out, trying to plump up his wings and make him _move_.  And he wants, oh he _wants_ more than even last night and the night before when Kurt had needed, needed, needed him.

He rocks against the sheets and quickly comes, rattling and shaking out of his own _skin_ as more pockets of fluid burst and run down his back, and he can’t help when he ruts in his own come like some animal possessed.

He does register the click of the lock and the turning of the knob, although only as a means to an end as Kurt is the only one who has the keys right now.  As if through a fog, he says Kurt’s name, desperately seeking release.

***

“Kurt-”

It’s garbled but Kurt understands it, and from the looks of things he’s a little bit late to the party.

Blaine’s lying mostly on the bed, his arms draped down and grazing the floor.  His back has already started breaking apart, and the thick, cloying smell of the fluid within hangs heavy in the air.

As well as the force of Blaine’s _want_.  

Kurt is almost bowled over by it, and it meets and mimics his own state of being in a way that lights a flame down his spine and under his feet, pushing his whole self to Blaine at once.

“Blaine,” he gasps, tugging his arms up gently and watching a pocket burst and stream.  “Come on, let me hel-, please let me help _us_ , okay?”

Blaine nods crazily, his eyes closed and chest heaving as Kurt helps him to his feet, leaving little puddles on the floor on their way to the bathroom.

Kurt reaches an awkward arm out and his hand connects with the lightswitch, earning them both a shock from the bright, bright overhead lights.

“I’m sorry,” Kurt mumbles as he maneuvers Blaine to the wall and leans him there next to the toilet.  “I had to wait until your parents granted permission and your dad was-”

Blaine snorts and so Kurt nods.

“Exactly.  But your mom gave me permission so I’m here,” Kurt tosses the words over his shoulder as he turns the faucets and clicks the drains closed.  “Hold on, Blaine.  I’ll make sure you’re okay.”

Blaine nods and stands there, body shaking and liquid cooling in strings on his legs.  Kurt can see even more, now, and it looks like the wings will be just to the bottom curve of Blaine’s ass.

Perfect.

He puts his hand in the water and hisses, but doesn’t cool it off before heading to Blaine, stripping of his own clothes as he walks.  He takes one moment - the slightest moment - to feel his own wings on the backs of his thighs, and smiles.

“C’mon baby.  Let’s get those things out.”

***

The intake of breath registers to Blaine because, with Kurt’s help, he’s come three more times since his own moment in the bed.

“What is it?” he asks, the bath - and a whole lot of his own skin - cooling around him.

“I-” Kurt begins behind him, the little clippers snipping and tugging just a bit at the spaces where Blaine knows he’s still encased.  “I mean, I thought they were-”

Blaine tries to turn his head, but Kurt taps his shoulder slightly.

“Don’t do that, I don’t want you to hurt yourself, but-”

Blaine already saw.

His wings, which Kurt had said were the color of his hair - a beautiful, deep almost-black - are...not.

Laced through, criss-crossing the deep dark, are startling, beautiful pure white streaks.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Reminder:
> 
> Dr. Togapi: Dr. TOE-GAH-PEE

_”Don’t-”_

_Kurt pauses, barely hanging onto his willpower._

_“I mean,” Blaine grits out, his wings still dripping, the bath, clean and new, sloshes and steams around them, "don’t be so gentle,_ fuck me _, dammit.”_

_Kurt doesn’t need to be told twice.  He pushes in, deep, deeper than he had been, and groans out long and loud while Blaine grips the porcelain and yells out, flexing his wings._

_Black and white shine and dance in front of Kurt's eyes as he lets go, twisting his hips and burrowing into Blaine in a perfect, terrible rhythm that takes the breath from both their lungs._

_“Ye-” Blaine tries, but fails as Kurt’s hips beat staccato measures against his ass, and he has to bite his own shoulder to feel like he can hold on._

_“Fuck,_  yes, _Kurt, fuck me, fuck me-”_

_***_

Three days.

It takes three days before either one of them want to leave the room.

They order up food, which, according to them both, is the best thing that the Academie allows other than choosing a Becoming partner.  They send out linens thanks to Blaine’s parents.

It’s almost like being in a hotel, or at least that’s what Blaine says to Kurt on day two after their third set of sheets for the day.

All told they kiss and fuck and cuddle over and over until their bodies are sated and they feel like themselves again.

And talk.

Sometimes it’s light; lilting and melodious in the way two stories combine to begin as a new tale, and Kurt’s heart could burst with it.

Other times it’s confession - stolen moments as their bodies cool after meeting and owning each other anew - where Kurt breaks down about his mother’s death or Blaine recalls being hit - scarred - by others for his race and preferences.

And the last - and maybe most precious - are the midnight wakings of both Kurt and Blaine in turn; watching as the other sleeps, keeping watch as time and circumstance change both their lives.

It is beautiful and terrifying, and both are glad to have the other.

***

“Hello, Dr. Togapi?”

Kurt taps the bedspread nervously and watches Blaine.  He's at the mirror, staring at his own wings over his shoulder.  They are dry now, and beautiful, hanging to the exact point Kurt had envisioned.

Every feather is both black and white.

After much inspection they had found that even the blackest feathers had white on the underside or near the quill where it remained hidden unless Blaine had them fully spread. Kurt’s going to leave out how he found that out.

He listens as Dr. Togapi sends his congratulations to Blaine.

“Yes, thank you, sir.  I will be sure to tell him.” Kurt lifts an eyebrow to Blaine, who’s slipping on a t-shirt with slits down the back; new clothes his parents had sent with openings and closures for his new fit.  “I’m calling, though, because Blaine and I would like to come and see you, to ask something about his wings?  We don’t-”

Kurt cuts off, searching for his words.

“-we’d prefer to make it as private as possible, because-”

Dr. Togapi breaks in, and Kurt nods enthusiastically, heart hammering.

“Yes, I think that would be perfect.  See you soon.”

He turns to Blaine.

“He’s coming up.”

Blaine just nods and turns his eyes to the television.

<i>”Dr. Aristas Flax is back in Washington today to support the Alergerian Protection Bill.  The Bill, underwritten by Flax himself, has gained notoriety in the past few weeks as sting operations in Washington, Columbus, and New York have smoked out Alergerian prostitution rings and brought to light more and more Alergerian Trafficking violations-”</i>

Blaine looks up at Kurt, who’s holding the remote and grimacing at Blaine.

“The last few days have been so perfect,” he says softly, crossing the room and opening Blaine’s arms to snuggle deeply into his chest.  “I really dont’t want to think about life outside these walls just yet.”

Blaine nods and puts his chin on Kurt’s head and both boys open their wings and pull each other tight.

A feathered, loving fortress around them both.

***

“They really are something else entirely,” Dr. Togapi says, putting away his stethoscope.  “I mean, there’s nothing wrong with you.  Your heart rate has returned to normal and your skin is healed-”

Blaine feels fingers run along the new skin at his back - where he knows he’s mostly healed - and shudders.

‘Sorry,” he says, mortified.  “Tickles still.”

Dr. Togapi laughs and Blaine is grateful he never tried to touch his _wings_.

“Well,” their headmaster continues, “I’ll call Iana and see if she can make it back here in the next few days.  I mean, I’ve never heard of two-color wings.  They are always either the color of the winged’s hair OR white.  Never both.”  He smiles at Blaine and heads for the door.  “But then again, you’ve done _everything_ your own way, Mr. Anderson.  We’ll figure this out, too.  Head to classes and check in, the teachers are waiting for you”

There are goodbyes all around and then Kurt and Blaine find themselves alone.

“Well,” Kurt begins, his hands in his pockets, “I guess we should do as he says.  There’s nothing more we can do just sitting up here.”

He trails off, watching Blaine watching him, and then Blaine’s moving, cupping Kurt’s face in his hands.

“Thank you,” Blaine breathes, and kisses Kurt’s lips so, so softly, it aches in Kurt’s chest.

“I’ll go get my bag,” Kurt replies, wanting to kick himself for his lack of romanticism.  “But...thank you, too.”  He quickly kisses Blaine once more and makes the the door, his wings shuffling and shifting behind him.

***

They make it through all their morning classes in one piece, although the every class has to delay its beginning for students to ask questions.  

_“Did it hurt?”_

_“Wow, you both got them, I mean, how did that happen-?”_

_“Blaine, you weren’t even-”_

And even some from boys who had already become.

_“Whoa, so bad-ass, man, the white-”_

_“Blaine, how are yours_ two _colors?”_

 _“How bad was it, because mine was_ insane _-”_

They answer all of the questions patiently and everyone keeps a respectful distance, although there is a lot of pointing, and they make it through all the way to lunch.

“C’mon,” Blaine says, tugging Kurt’s hand, “let’s get in line before all the chicken caesar salad is gone!”

Kurt groans.  He just wants to go upstairs and _sleep_.  Between his own Becoming and Blaine’s he could use about three more weeks of sleep after all the-

“Yes!” Blaine is holding a plastic container triumphantly over his head and his wings are spread out just enough to show the beautiful marble contrast that Kurt just wants to bury his face in.

It’s because of the sleep and the silly plastic container, because of Blaine’s overeager face and his gorgeous new wings that the hand doesn’t really register to Kurt at all until it’s actually _touching_ Blaine.

And then everything seems both fast and slow.

The hand reaches for Blaine’s left wing and just… _glides_ through the feathers.  It’s unexpected and so, so taboo here that Kurt doesn’t realize what he’s seeing at first.

He just knows that the fury that boils up from somewhere unfathomable in his chest is laced with venom and possession the likes of which he’s never, ever felt.

And he throws it away from himself in a ferocious, booming wave.

“How _dare_ you,” he shouts, crossing the few yards between himself and Blaine and tearing at the offending hand.

He looks up, up into the terrified face of a boy - he can’t be older than fourteen - who’s holding his own hand away from himself as if offended.  The entire eatery has stopped, all the boys’ eyes on the three of them.

“I’m sor-” the boy begins, but he’s cut off by Wes.

“Why did you do that?” Wes demands, putting his hands on the boy’s shoulders and tugging him away.  “I am _responsible_  for you, and I told you you couldn’t do-”

“Wait.”

One word, and everyone’s eyes are back on Blaine.

“I’m really sorry, Blaine,” Wes begins, putting his hands out plaintively.  “I’m taking him on the tour and I stopped to talk to Tyler and-”

“It’s fine,” Blaine replies in monotone as he turns to the boy and addresses him.  “What’s your name?”

“Thomas,” the boy whispers, the tips of his right hand still extended away from his body like a brand.

“Thomas,” Blaine continues, moving a bit closer to the boy and holding out a hand when Kurt moves to stop him.  “I’m going to need you to trust me.”  He looks up at everyone in the room and speaks even louder.  

“I’m going to need you _all_ to trust me.”

He looks into Kurt’s eyes as he says it and, although every nerve in his body is screaming _no!_ , Kurt nods.

“Okay, so Thomas,” Blaine says, standing almost beside him now.  “I want you to trust me, okay?”

Thomas nods.

“I am going to hold onto your hand.  Please.  Please let me do this, okay?”

Thomas nods again, this time with more confidence.

Kurt watches - they all watch - as Blaine takes Thomas’ wrist and pulls him closer, reaching behind himself and-

There’s a gasp from the back of the room, and Kurt barely holds himself where he stands.

Thomas’ fingertips glide doesn Blaine’s feathers, over and over, until Blaine lets go.  Thomas’ hands keep going, though, reveling in their softness and beauty.

Wes is the first to speak.

“Blaine?  I mean, are you-”

“I’m fine,” Blaine answers, awed.  “I mean...it’s fine.  There’s-”

Kurt bites his lip, tears filling his eyes.

“I don’t feel...anything.”


End file.
